Swear on Your Sim?
by All The Cake
Summary: Jim and Michael take a college trip to London, where they're hoping for good food and loose women. Ok, maybe that last one is just Michael... but they're in for a whole lot more.
1. Teacups and Scones

**A/N: **So this is Becki and Shelbee's first combined fic. Becki wrote the Jim paragraphs and Shelbee wrote the Michael paragraphs. If that's confusing for you, we don't know what to tell you.

Disclaimer: Neither of us have been to London so some stuff might not be accurate at all. We tried our best and did warn you, so don't get pissed if we screw stuff up. Also, we don't own The Office or anyone in this chapter. Except maybe Mr. Fitz.

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><p>As the plane touched down in London, Jim looked out the window. Much like America, it was cold and gray. He didn't really expect anything less in the middle of winter. Plus there was a rumor going around that London was always cold and gray. Even though it wasn't exactly a tropical island, a two week trip to London was definitely a more interesting way to spend some of his break than sitting at home in Scranton, playing video games with Michael and eating Christmas cookies. Not that there was anything wrong with that. "So what do you think?" Jim asked Michael, pulling his backpack out of the overhead compartment. "Is this going to be better or worse than sitting around for a month doing nothing?"<p>

"It's gotta be way better," Michael responded quickly, jumping up from his seat and cutting off the people behind him to try and pull out his bag from the overhead before it got too crowded. "I mean, I could be pulling this out of my ass, but I'm almost a hundred percent - but not quite sure, that chick's here are loose as hell and will sleep with _anyone_." He looked over at Jim with raised eyebrows and a wide grin as his elbow knocked into the girl behind him.

"Yeah, I don't think they put that in the brochure," Jim said, smiling apologetically at the girl Michael had just elbowed. She looked pretty offended, even though she was part of their group and Michael hadn't technically been talking about her. There were about 30 of them that had forked over a pretty sizeable chunk of money to spend half their winter break in London instead of seeing all their old friends and getting wasted every night. Jim's brothers thought he was an idiot. No surprises there. Having never been outside the country, Jim had jumped at the chance to spend time doing something more interesting than sitting at home. Michael had too, although Jim was pretty sure he was going to spend two weeks looking for a hot girl with an accent to hook up with.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we can't do it." Michael retorted quickly, following behind him as he slung the bag over his shoulder. "Obviously this is a college trip, they're not going to put in the brochure 'Hook up with thousands of foreign ladies, and be crowned king of London'." He smirked at his own joke. Thousands of girls is definitely what he'd like, especially given the fact they didn't know who he was - therefore they didn't know about all the things girls judged him on back home. Mostly stupid things he'd done in his past. "We're gonna have to set up a system, because if I'm getting it on with a girl in the hotel room, I don't want you walking in on us."

"System, good idea," Jim said. Not that he actually thought Michael was going to be bringing strange British girls back to the hotel room, but it was hard to tell with that kid sometimes. They had already been roommates for over a year and Jim had yet to walk in on Michael with a girl (with or without a system) but that didn't mean he was so innocent. At least to hear him tell the stories. And he liked to tell stories. "You know we actually have to do some group stuff here, right? You can't spend the entire trip scouring the city for girls to hook up with." Knowing Michael he would find a way around the mandatory group trips, though. Jim wouldn't really mind it either. Sitting through a Shakespeare play? Two of them, in two weeks? Not his idea of a good time.

"Yeah, a system. But we can't use that scrunchie system, that's girly. Plus I don't have a scrunchie." He paused, looking up at Jim and shrugging. "Maybe you do, you've got more hair than I do." He didn't have enough hair to fit into a scrunchie, but Michael liked to bother Jim any way that he could. "Group stuff.. right. No one wants to actually do that shit, it's boring. And I doubt that Mr. Fitz wants to do it either, so I'm sure if I told him that I had more important things to do, he'd let it slide - and most likely understand." Mr. Fitz was a pretty cool teacher, he was also relatively young. So Michael had come up with the theory that he'd be looking for a hot British girl as well.

He had a point there. Nobody really wanted to spend their break actually teaching students. "Yeah, you're actually probably right about that." Not that he liked to admit it. "And I don't have a scrunchie, weirdly enough. So you're probably going to have to come up with something different." Knowing Michael he would probably actually put a decent amount of time into coming up with a system. He tended to take these things very seriously, even if they didn't really matter at all. He put a lot more work into stuff like this than he did his school work, which was why he always ended up copying Jim's homework, just like he had been doing since they were in the same math class in middle school.

"When am I not right? This is just another Michael Scott lesson in life," That was the name of the book he was writing. He'd written more pages in that book than he had ever written for school. He knew Jim was the reason he made it to this college, because he'd definitely lived off of copying Jim's work. "I'll figure out a system, don't worry." He muttered loudly as they passed two police men that were standing beside the gates. He realized it probably wasn't the best thing to say, so he hung his head and continued walking. "I always imagined the first time I went on a plane, that I'd have some long lost love waiting for me at the end."

"Long lost love? You haven't lived long enough to have some long lost love waiting for you to get off a plane." Plus that seemed a little bit too much like a cheesy movie to actually happen in real life. "There's no one waiting for us here, sorry. Unless you count our bags, but I'm pretty sure those don't count." The airport looked a lot like all the other airports Jim had been in. At least they weren't in a country where people spoke a language other than English. Jim would probably get lost within ten minutes. "Maybe when we get back home some long lost love will be waiting for you there. Or some poor girl you hooked up with at a party who doesn't realize that you don't remember her name."

"I could have known a girl in preschool, and maybe she tracked my Facebook down... She saw that I'm in England and the whole reason our friendship fell apart was because... she moved to England. So she called the airport, asked for the flight number, she found the gate and now she's waiting for me." Michael had a vivid imagination, and that was part of the reason why his life felt so dull. Because nothing in his imagination ever came true. "It's not my fault if I don't remember their names," Michael was just really bad with names. He wasn't even that drunk at parties, he just couldn't for the life of him, remember the names. He hung his head as he walked to the baggage claim, waiting for his to come around. "Maybe there's a pretty lady in my bag."

"Wow," Jim said. "That's an impressive story. And very realistic." If Michael put as much time into his schoolwork as he did into making up random scenarios and working on that mysterious book of his then maybe he would actually know what it was like to do his own work. That seemed improbable though. Copying off Jim was probably easier. He didn't really know since he had no one to copy off of. "If there's a pretty lady in your bag she's probably going to pretty mad at you since she's been stuck in a bag for several hours," he pointed out, grabbing his own suitcase. "Especially if you don't remember her name."

Michael quickly reached for his suitcase, pulling it beside him and not wasting any time on trying to get away from the rest of the class. "I don't need to know her name, I'll just call her 'teacup' and 'scone' and all the other love names they use over here." At least, it seemed like names they'd use. But Michael would have to listen closely. "Do you know how to hail a taxi?" He asked as they were walkign towards the exit, "Because we need one to get to the hotel." He pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, "This is the address. It should be easy, right?"

Jim looked at the paper. "That's the same road we're already on. And I'm pretty sure we're all walking there as a group." Michael didn't seem to understand that this was a group trip and not Jim and Michael Tour London. While it might be a little annoying to stick with the group there was going to be a lot of free time, and Jim didn't want to be the first thing he did in London to be getting lost. There would be plenty of opportunities to do that later on in the trip. "Also, I don't think 'teacup' and 'scone' are names over here. I'm not sure, but it's just a guess."

"Oh, really?" Michael pushed open the doors to the exit and looked over at the street sign. "Huh, you're right for once. That's a change." He leaned against the concrete wall of the building and stared at the doors. "I get that we have to walk with them, but they're taking forever. I just wanna go to the hotel and drop my bags off, and then party."

Jim checked his watch. "It's two in the afternoon. You're going to go party in a foreign city at two in the afternoon? People are going to think you're an alcoholic." The drinking age was lower here, though. Maybe people just drank more. Even so, there probably wasn't a lot of good partying going on in the afternoon. Jim could just picture Michael bouncing from bar to bar and leaving once he realized there weren't any hot chicks there.

"Oh." Michael looked at his watch, and then quickly dropped his arm when he realized it wouldn't do any justice - because it wasn't like he could say that he mixed it up with America's time, because it was much earlier there. So instead he looked towards Jim with a sheepish grin. "Maybe I'll wait until night time..."

"Night would be better," Jim agreed. By his best calculations it was only something like 8 am back home, which just made the whole thing even less okay. It was already after lunch time and all Jim wanted was some breakfast. He had slept for basically the entire plane ride and it felt like it should be morning to him. He wanted bacon and Michael wanted to party. Of course.

Instead of responding, Michael groaned, mumbling meaningless curses at the glass doors every time they opened to reveal anyone but their classmates. He was thankful Jim was on this trip, because Michael definitely would have been lost - since he liked going wherever he wanted to. Though Michael wouldn't have signed up if Jim didn't. He took a few steps, looking inside to see the rest of the class coming. "Okay, good, great, grand it's about damn time."

"You wouldn't know patience if it bit you in the ass," Jim said as the rest of the group joined them. He was fine with being part of a group and doing scheduled things. They were going to be there for two weeks. That was plenty of time to see the parts of London they didn't tour as a group. And to be quite honest, Jim didn't really care about seeing old castles and things that were of no significance to anyone outside of England. Did that make him a typical American? Probably. But at least he was seeing the city.

"I'd know if it was a girl named Patience, and she literally bit me in the ass." Michael spoke quietly, ignoring the fact that they had just been talking about how Michael didn't remember girl's names. "Wanna get something to eat when we _finally_ get to the hotel? I could go for some French toast. Something good, because I feel like I'm going to die from the lack of things in my stomach right now."

"You really think a girl named Patience would bite you in the ass?" Patience sounded like one of those names chosen by very religious people. And very religious girls probably did not go around biting people's asses. "Food sounds good," Jim agreed. "But there are like five bags of peanuts in your stomach right now." Michael had taken it upon himself to eat Jim's peanuts after he fell asleep and then regaled him with a tale of how he flirted with the flight attendant for even more peanuts. Apparently it had been some of his best work and Jim had missed it. Bummer.

"I don't know how people are around here, it could happen..." He muttered. At least it wouldn't be that girl Precious, from that movie. She scared the hell out of him. It was also a really sad movie. Probably one of the only movies he'd ever cried at, though he didn't really know why he cried. It was almost as if he knew other people were crying, so it made him cry. It was a chain reaction. "Yeah, but peanuts don't fill anyone up. Hence, why I needed five bags in the first place." It was sad that Michael had been just a few more minutes away from the Mile High club with the air hostess. Well, that's what he believed anyway. If only he had had a bit more time.

"I don't know much about English girls but I think if they had a thing for biting asses we would have read it somewhere." Michael had conducted a very thorough investigation on British girls before they left to figure out how he could hit on them most effectively. Jim usually only chimed in when he said something that sounded like a seriously bad idea but some of the facts Michael found were interesting, despite the fact that the most credible-sounding ones had nothing to do with girls. "That's true. Plus you wanted to hit on the flight attendant." Even in the last hour of the flight when Jim had been awake Michael had called her over five times.

"That reminds me, you know, bringing up reading." He waved his hand, as if trying to get Jim to think of what he was thinking. But it was no use. He never thought the way that Michael did. No matter how long they'd been friends. "I wanna get some British Playboy. They must have it, right? Full of British chicks? There's gotta be some tips in there on how to pick them up." He said simply, looking over at the girls from class that ended up beside him, glaring. He rolled his eyes, "I wonder if they'll find our accents hot."

"You know British girls probably look a lot like American girls when they're naked, right?" The one defining factor seemed to be their accents, and pictures didn't exactly have accents. "But maybe there will be tips." Jim had been humoring Michael since they were kids and now it was something of a habit. Besides, Michael always said he was a dreamer and Jim wasn't about to crush that for him. "I'm sure they'll find our accents amazing," Jim said. He couldn't imagine why they would, but maybe it would happen.

"You don't know that. What if they look completely different? They've got to look a lot hotter than these American girls." Michael waved his hands towards the girls from class. "Or else I'm going to be pretty pissed about the money I've spent to go on this trip." Sure, it was great to get out of America and see other places. But honestly, nothing they were doing was that interesting to him. "Do you think? I mean they can't be hearing American accents too much, so maybe they'll find it just as hot as British accents are to us." He finally pointed towards a big building, squinting his eyes. "Is that the hotel?"

"I think it's probably the hotel. Because you know, all of our classmates are going in there. It's just a guess though." It was a pretty nice looking hotel. Two weeks there wouldn't be so bad, especially since he and Michael were sharing a room and he was used to that. "America is like the movie capital of the world," Jim pointed out, though he didn't know if that was actually true or not. "I'm sure they've heard American accents a million times before." Of course he didn't think their accents were all that great, but he didn't find British accents as fascinating as the rest of America seemed to. Not that there was anything wrong with them. They were just accents.

"Okay, smartass. No one over here is going to like your sarcasm." He muttered, narrowing his eyes and walking with the class inside the hotel. He looked around with a wide smile - it was nice. Definitely worth the money. His eyes followed a few English girls (or who he assumed were English) walk out of the hotel. "Yeah, maybe.. but maybe not. Don't keep acting like us Americans aren't hot. We're hot. And we know it."

"Sarcasm? I wasn't being sarcastic," Jim said, following Michael into the hotel. Mr. Fitz was already at the desk and motioned for the group to join him.

"Hey guys, we're all checked in. Once you put your stuff in your rooms feel free to get out, check out the city for a while. Meet back here at six for dinner, though. We're going to try to get used to the time change as quickly as possible so we've got a bit of a schedule to stay on." With that Mr. Fitz handed out the room keys and headed toward the elevators. They had roughly four hours to do whatever they wanted and Jim was definitely not against it.

Michael immediately dodged through the other people in the class, retrieving the room key and passing the other one to Jim. "You hear that? We have four hours to do whatever we want!" He told him excitedly, heading towards the elevator and quickly clicking the up arrow, over and over and over. The more he clicked, the faster it would appear. "This is going to be the best two weeks of our lives!"

"I did hear," Jim said, following Michael at a slightly more normal pace. "Because we were listening to the same person doing the talking." The elevator (or lift, as it was called here) arrived quickly and within ten minutes they had ditched their stuff in their room and were back outside. "Okay, which way?" It was a pretty busy street with what looked like a lot of businesses on it, which was good. They could see stuff without wandering so far that they got irrevocably lost before they had to be back to the hotel for dinner.

Michael looked to the left, and then the right, and then the left again. He wasn't sure which one would be better. But all he knew was there was a nice looking shop to the left - with some fancy but somwhat slutty looking wear. That would mean girls that were in there would be interested in wearing those clothes. He paused, looking towards Jim with the same grin he had on earlier. "That store is where I wanna go. Can you imagine the hotties in there?" He shook his head, heading right towards the store. "C'mon."

Jim looked at the store. "Seriously? That's where you want to go?" He shook his head. "I think I'll take a pass on this one. I'll wait here though. Unless you're in there forever. I'll probably just leave then."

"Uh, yeah seriously! If someone's going in here, then they have a naughty side. And Jim, that is a side I'm willing to search for." He wasn't surprised Jim didn't wanna come in, but he wasn't gonna back down. "Fine, you don't have to come. But you better be here when I get back." He pointed his finger at Jim as he slowly backed into the store, his eyes narrowed.

"I will be," Jim promised as Michael walked into the store. And it seemed like an easy promise to keep, until he had been waiting for ten minutes, then fifteen, then twenty. That was where he drew the line. Down the street there was a little place with a menu chalkboard outside the door, which could only be a café or a restaurant of some type. Food. Bacon. It all sounded so good at that moment. He didn't even get to eat his airline peanuts. And he could always text Michael, right? He looked through the window of the store, but couldn't see Michael. Maybe he had found a girl to hit on. If that was the case, Jim could be back before Michael even noticed he was gone. Making a new promise to himself to get a seat by the window and text Michael in fifteen minutes if he didn't see him walk by first, Jim headed off to the café down the street.

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><p>Review? It would make our day!<p> 


	2. Still the Blonde Waitress

**A/N:** Yay new characters! Becki's still Jim, but now she's Angela too. And Shelbee is Pam. And this is chapter two.

Disclaimer: We still own nothing. Except Cesar, and we might have borrowed him from Gilmore Girls.

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><p>Angela was two hours into an eight hour shift and simply put, everything was going to hell. One of their coffee makers had broken and spewed coffee on the floor for twenty minutes until they figured out how to shut the damn thing off and they were completely out of provolone cheese, which everyone loved. So when an incredibly hot guy walked in and sat in Angela's section she felt the day starting to turn around. She had been single for far too long and was not above flirting with strangers if it meant she wouldn't end up spending another night alone at home watching old episodes of Skins. "Pam," Angela said, nudging the girl next to her. "Check out table six."<p>

Table six was located right by the main windows in the front, positioned so Jim could see down the street in order to watch for Michael. The café had a nice atmosphere, he decided. And some really good-looking employees standing behind the counter. The blonde was cute, but Jim wasn't one to go for blondes exclusively (like Michael always did). The girl next to her was decidedly more attractive, though she was wearing less makeup and had her hair back in a ponytail. Maybe he would get lucky and she would be his waitress. Michael would be so jealous.

Pam purposely groaned a bit louder than intended, overreacting about Angela nudging her. "Ow, that hurt." But it didn't stop her from looking up and slowly finding table six. She grinned, but then quickly replaced it with a frown. Well, what the hell? She found it incredibly annoying that someone so attractive got seated in Angela's area. Pam had already had her share of creeps that threw compliments at her, that she dodged as quick as she could. Why couldn't she get the great side of karma? "No way, that is not fair." She replied, pointing towards table six which she realized was a bit noticeable and something she shouldn't be doing. She lowered her voice and turned towards Angela, narrowing her eyes. "Let me have table six. He's not even your type!"

"You don't even know my type," Angela retorted. Of course, that was entirely a lie since she had been friends with Pam since they started school and Angela generally went for the guys that had that tall, dark and handsome thing going on. The guy at table six had lighter hair and was more cute than brooding and mysterious. Really though, there wasn't anything wrong with it. She could break outside the box and try something new. It would be a Christmas present to herself. "That's my section, sorry. You're going to have to deal with your own customers." Like the guy with the bad hairpiece that hit on Pam at least two or three times a week.

"That's entirely unfair." She spoke quickly, her eyes narrowing even more to try and show Angela how serious she was. She grabbed the coffee pot, knowing table fifteen needed a refill, and not really wanting to head over there right away because the guy was kind of creepy. "Why won't you just let me have that table? Just until he's gone." She whispered, then slowly began backing up with a wide grin, "Let me have the bloke. Let me." She knew it probably wasn't going to work, and maybe Angela wouldn't let her have table six, just in spite of Pam wanting it so badly. It was like her.

"But look at him! He's so incredibly gorgeous," Angela said. When he walked in she just thought he was cute, but now that flirting with him was at stake his stock was going up a bit. Not to mention a tip. She was a bit behind on her Christmas shopping at the moment. Like, incredibly behind. She hadn't bought anything for her brother and sister yet and twelve year olds were very demanding. "I let you have that guy with the lip ring two days ago! So you don't need this table." Of course, that was because Angela had an inherent dislike of all facial piercings and avoided serving people with them at all costs. But that was beside the point. He had tipped very well, according to Pam.

"Yeah, I can see he's gorgeous. I'm not blind." She spoke through gritted teeth. People would have to be absolutely bonkers to not think he was gorgeous. "Yeah, but I didn't ask for him! You didn't want him because you hate the piercings. Everywhere. You hate them." Pam only had her ears pierced, so did Angela. Sometimes she liked to buy those fake piercings and wear them to work - Angela's reaction was an amusing thing to see. Scary, but amazing. Pam took a deep breath before shaking her head, "Fine. You go. Go ahead. Take his order. But if there's no 'click' which I know there won't be," Or she hoped to god, not. "Then I get him. Got it?" And with that, Pam forced herself to walk to table fifteen, with the old men who liked to come the same time every day. And asked for her personally. Which she didn't enjoy.

"Oh, we'll click, trust me," Angela said, grabbing a coffee cup and pot before heading over to his table. He really was rather attractive though, sadly, not exactly her type. Having a type probably made her shallow but that was fine by her. She was a predictable girl. "Hello," she said, setting the cup down on the table. "I'm Angela and I'll be your waitress today. Can I start you off with something to drink or some cream and sugar for the coffee?"

Angela was cute enough, Jim decided, but he still liked something about the other waitress more. Michael would probably like this girl, though. His thing for blondes usually held strong, even after several drinks. "The coffee's fine for now," Jim said. "Can I get a few minutes to order though?"

He was American! Angela didn't exactly have a thing for Americans but he really did have a great voice. "Not a problem," Angela said with a smile. "I'll be back to check on you in a few minutes." She smiled again, because that really seemed to help her tips (customers liked her less when she was bitchy), and headed back to the counter.

"Pam," Angela said, poking her again. "He's American!"

Pam frowned, purposely shoving her hip into Angela's. "Seriously? Really?" Pam did have a thing for Americans. Their accents were so clear, and different. She found them so different, and yet she couldn't even talk to this American who was also perfect, looks-wise. "I will give you my tips from table fifteen, if you let me have table six." Table fifteens old men always overtipped her. It was either that, or Pam was going to go over and take the American's order when Angela wasn't looking.

That was a good offer. That was a really good offer. The old guys practically threw money at Pam and really, Angela was definitely just doing this for the money. Especially since she had some serious shopping to do. But was that enough to turn over the American to Pam? It was a hard decision. "Look, let me think about it, okay? I told him I would be back there to take his order in a few minutes so I'll let you know." This was ridiculous, really. There was no reason to put this much thought into it. And if he was an American he was probably on vacation or something so it's not like she even had a shot with him. But it had been far too long since she had made out with anyone, and here was a sexy American right in front of her!

"Think about it? No! Then what will I have to do? Bring out the food and say goodbye? That's not even enough time to tell my name!" She then put on a straight face and did her best to speak in an American accent, "Uh thanks for the food, dude. Peace out." She shrugged her shoulders with wide eyes. "And then he'll tip me with American money and I won't even get to tell him my bloody name!" Pam wasn't too good with indoor voices, and she was immediately shot a dirty look by the boss. She had a problem with cursing, and she was pretty sure the only way she still had this job was because her parents were best mates with the owner.

"Okay, look at it this way. You have great tips! You'll have loads of cash and I'll get to have five minutes with a cute American boy. That's a fair trade, right?" The money actually sounded quite a bit better at this point but Pam always got interesting customers. Creeps, most of them, but it made for interesting stories. Angela always just got boring people who never did anything interesting at all and left only okay tips. Pam got weird customers and great tips. Really, she should get to keep this one all to herself, because he was an interesting customer and Pam had more than her fair share of those.

"It's not a fair trade." She muttered, glancing towards the adorable American guy and shaking her head angrily. "You're honestly the worst." She added quickly before lifting her head in a snobby-like fashion and stomping away - caring to the other tables who just were not as cute as he was. It was sad. Maybe he'd just tell Angela that Pam was hotter, and that he wanted her to be his waitress. But the likes of that happening were... none at all.

Angela checked her watch. It had definitely been enough time to take the cute guy's order. Pam had walked away already so her path to the American was clear. "So, have you decided yet?"

Jim looked up from the menu. Still the blonde waitress. Angela. "I think I'll just have a ham sandwich on rye, please," he said, closing the menu.

There was a please. The cute American boy had manners. Maybe he would tip well. Of course if he tipped in American money she would have to exchange it and it probably wouldn't end up being that great because pounds were worth more… or were American dollars worth more? She had no idea. But either way, he was cute and nice. He was a win in her book, even if he wasn't all mysterious. Pam always said she had a vampire complex. That was ridiculous. Vampires. "I'll be back with your sandwich right away," she said, smiling again. It was all about the smiles. Pam hadn't quite figured that one out yet, in Angela's opinion.

Pam watched from a few tables back, she was cleaning - or half cleaning. And she could see Angela's little smile from where she was. Well, obviously since she was only a few tables away. Pam straightened up, a hint of jealousy on her features. Or a lot of jealousy. She made her way over to Angela. "You're a twat," she coughed out (the ultimate way to insult someone) all the while shoving her out of the way. Maybe this way the American would think that Angela was in fact, a twat, and not even tip her.

"That's really adorable," Angela said, passing Pam and bumping her into the counter with her hip. "You know, I bet loads of boys love that kind of language. Remind me again, how are you single?" Of course Angela couldn't really talk since she hadn't dated anyone since she dumped that awful Brad nearly six months ago, but still. It was lucky Pam had gotten this job by her family connections because otherwise she would've been fired when they started working there back in college. "If you want the table so badly, you can take him his food. He ordered a turkey sandwich on wheat." She really hoped Pam hadn't heard her take his order because screwing over Pam was a lot of fun.

"How am I single?" She brought her hands up, as if to say she just really didn't know. "Blokes knocking on my door, and I'm just kicking them down. I'm too classy for a boyfriend, it's pretty much a known fact." So maybe Pam had been single for the longest time, ever. But that's cause guys didn't understand her. "You'll let me bring him his food? Seriously?" Turkey on wheat? Turkey was good. Wheat bread was alright. She preferred pumpernickel or rye. But this wasn't her sandwich. She then slowly narrowed her eyes, "You know what? I don't know if I can believe you. Just a second ago you weren't letting me get to him at all." She decided against thinking Angela was doing something horrible, and instead placed the order. Sandwiches were quick, which meant she'd get to speak to him in a matter of minutes. "Oh, he's gonna forget about your face when he says mine!" She sang quietly, running her fingers down her cheek as if she was looking the best she ever had.

"Right, make excuses!" Angela said, pouring herself a cappuccino. Technically they weren't supposed to do that but she never had a problem with it. Who was going to know? It was just water and flavoring, really. And loads of whipped cream. And occasionally chocolate shavings when she was feeling a bit more motivated. "And you really should believe it," she said, taking a sip of cappuccino. That was good. She made good cappuccino. Pam was rather crap at it. She also did a half-assed job all the time so maybe that was why. "I really doubt that," Angela said as Cesar pushed the sandwich through the window. "Well, go on. Take him his sandwich. You wanted to talk to him, didn't you?"

Pam knew she should probably be checking on the other tables but she was waiting for the sandwich to be made. "You know, I could tell Cesar you're making cappuccino again. It'd be payback since you told him when I made myself cocoa." That wasn't a funny time, not at all. She immediately turned around and snatched the plate, "Yes, I do. I'll be back. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll run off with him to America." She shrugged. "Anything's possible." She turned around, trying to keep the grin off her face as she made her way to the cute American. She slowly placed the plate down in front of him with a small smile. She wasn't really one to smile at people. Angela did it. It was creepy, and unneeded. "Hi, um." She stumbled slightly, did she say her name, or explain herself or something? "Here you are." Yeah, that worked.

"Cesar loves me though!" Angela called, watching Pam walk away. She wished she had some magical device that could make her hear things from across the room. This could get good.

"Thanks," Jim said. This waitress was different. The cute waitress. Not that Angela wasn't, but this girl was more… something. Angela had seemed kind of fake in the way that all waitresses seem fake. Full of smiles and 'what can I get you' and all of that. This girl just kind of plopped down the sandwich, did something that might have been a smile but looked more like a smirk. She was about to walk away when Jim looked down at the sandwich and noticed something. "Excuse me? Sorry, but I think this is wheat bread. I ordered it on rye." Something else was weird, too. "And ham, not turkey." He always kind of felt like an ass when he complained in restaurants and jumped to apologies right away (his mom was big on manners) but the sandwich was just completely wrong. Probably not her fault. Until thirty seconds ago he'd had a different waitress.

Pam slowly turned back around as he spoke. Oh, here it was. He was going to ask for her number, or maybe for her to sit with him. She'd do it. Oh, she definitely would take that invitation. But no. It wasn't that. She felt her face immediately heat up, slowly turning to glare at Angela before looking back at the guy in front of her. "Oh, um, actually. Uh... that... that's... for this guy. This guy over here." She grabbed the plate again. "Over in the way back. So, sorry... thought... I, um, thought you were someone else. So I'll just." She waved her hand towards the back, but instead of following it, she made her way back to the counter, slamming the plate in front of Angela. "Really? I just… really?" She had never been more embarrassed. And this was so on purpose. Angela never forgot orders. That was Pam.

"Maybe next time you won't call me a twat. Now, should I give him the _real _sandwich or should I give you another chance?" She tapped her chin, pretending to contemplate this while really thinking of how much she could get Pam to do for her in order to get another chance with the American. Since she had embarrassed herself completely in front of him, maybe she would be less likely to jump at another chance. But knowing Pam, she wanted to redeem herself. "Cesar, I need a ham on rye," Angela called through the window. "I _guess _you can give him the sandwich."

"I'd say you'll give me another bleeding chance, because that wasn't funny at all. You know I hate that..." Getting orders wrong was so embarrassing, and Pam hated being embarrassed. It was the worst feeling in the world. Pam balanced herself on her tip toes, then back to the heels of her feet - switching between the two, trying to decide on redeeming herself, or giving up completely. She was silent, well, for a few seconds. "I'll do it." She quickly grabbed for the plate once it was finished, gave Angela a challenging look and then walking, slowly because she was still covering up from the embarrassment - and then placing the sandwich in front of him. "So, this one is yours. I… apologize for that. Angela likes to embarrass people..."

"It's okay," Jim said, looking at the sandwich. It looked perfect. "So are you my waitress now? Not that I'll need anything else, but you never know." It wasn't like he was going to try to get her number or anything. He wasn't that desperate and he'd only been in the country like an hour. He wasn't Michael. Still, he was just sitting there alone. A little conversation wouldn't hurt.

"Um..." Pam looked over towards Angela. Technically, the only thing Angela had told her to do was bring the sandwich over. She didn't say that Pam could be his waitress. But then again, why did she care what Angela had said? "Yes, I guess I am." She looked back to him and smiled slightly, then realized she should probably give him her name. "Oh! I'm Pam." She pointed towards the name on her shirt which she then realized wasn't there. She always forgot the pin at home. "Well… yeah, it's still Pam. I don't… know where that went."

"Nice to meet you, Pam," he said with a smile. "I'm Jim."

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><p>We love those reviews!<p> 


	3. Sexual Touching

**A/N: **There's really nothing new to add, because we're both still being the same characters. This chapter's pretty long compared to the other ones but hey, everyone loves Jim and Pam. And Angela and Michael... at least we do. Thanks to those who reviewed! We're glad you guys like it.

Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out by now, we don't own anything. Except Cesar, but he doesn't really count.

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><p>Even from across the room Angela could hear him introduce himself. "Jim, really?" She made her way across the café to the table where Jim was sitting and took a seat across from him. Pam hadn't done it yet, so why should she stand there awkward. "What a great name." Not entirely true. She would never date a guy named Jim. It sounded far too dependable. She liked guys with a bit of a crazy streak. "So, Jim. I was wondering about your accent earlier. Where are you from, exactly?" Not that she knew anything about American geography. There was New York and Hollywood and that really big space in between that people probably lived in. Oh, and she definitely wasn't flirting. That would piss Pam off royally. Well… maybe she was flirting. Jim was in her section! And she was bored.<p>

Pam's eyes widened as she watched Angela take the seat that she so wanted to take. That wasn't cool at all. Who did she think she was? The Queen of England? She wasn't even the Queen of... the napkin that was crumpled on the floor that she should probably pick up... "Uh, Angela... No one asked you anything, ever," she muttered, knowing she should give up and continue working, because she already had slacked enough. But instead, she pulled a chair from the table next to them and pulled it to the other side of the table - a bit in the aisle, but not caring, clearly. "Are you from Canadia?" Pam asked, looking towards Angela with a smug grin. Angela knew _nothing_ about the States. Sad.

So Jim had company now. That was fine with him. Michael was off doing whatever it is he was doing and if he was missing Jim he would've texted by now. "Canada? That's not actually in America. Well, it's in North America. But it's not part of the States. I'm from Pennsylvania." Did that even mean anything to them? Jim didn't know anything about England except the fact that London was there so he really didn't expect them to know anything about the States.

"Pennsylvania, how great," Angela said, nodding as if she even knew where that was. Pennsylvania? Was that even a word? "Is that near New York at all?" Someday Angela was going to go to New York. She watched Gossip Girl obsessively and it looked like the most amazing place. London was dull, dull, dull. And the weather. It was cold and wet and grey all the time. Even in the summer. New York looked so amazing in comparison. "Have you been to New York? Do you know anyone famous?"

"No, no one famous," Jim said. "But I have been to New York a few times." Like when he was ten and his family went to the Museum of Natural History for his birthday. That was a great day. "Pennsylvania's pretty close. Scranton's about two hours away."

Pam was listening, she really was. But it was going in one ear and out the other. Especially after she was shot down about being from Canada. Especially when she'd said it wrong. And watching Angela pretend to know what she was talking about was very amusing. "Pennsylvania..." She paused, "Wait, is that near the Hershey's factory, or Hershey's parks or something?" Pam knew her chocolate. And she was pretty certain with what she was saying.

"The Hershey's factory is in Pennsylvania, yeah," Jim said. "I went there on a class trip in second grade. We got a ton of free samples and four kids got sick on the bus ride home." For a second grader that made for a pretty top-notch day. Lots of sugar and when a kid barfed in school it was front page news for a week. He hadn't been back since but now he was kind of reconsidering that. Who didn't want to go to a chocolate factory? Being Charlie Bucket for a day was fun.

"That's so cool." Personally Angela didn't care at all about this chocolate factory, whatever it was. Everyone knew chocolate in Europe was way better than in America. Why would anyone get a Hershey bar when it was right next to the Mars bars and the Cadburys? Complete pricks, that's who. It was just traitorous. Pam thought she was crazy but Angela really was partial to chocolate that didn't taste like crayons. "You know, we have really good chocolate here. Better chocolate, actually. You should get some. They sell a ton at the store on the corner. Do they have Kit-Kats in America? Those are the best." Nestle really knew their stuff. Hershey's was probably a lame knock-off.

Pam could tell Angela didn't care and was being fake. She knew that. But Pam actually did find it interesting. "I want to go there someday. I always pictured it to be like absolutely gigantic, with chocolate fountains that I can drink from." She paused, looking down at the table slightly, realizing she probably could have kept that in. She was trying to impress this guy, more than the blonde bimbo next to her. So instead she turned to Angela, "Yeah, they have Kit-Kats in America. What a stupid question." She only knew this because of some movie she had watched that was American with Kit-Kats in it. But it still felt good to talk down to Angela.

"We do have Kit-Kats, yes." Kit-Kats really were the best. He had no idea those were British. Or English. Whichever. He wasn't about to make an ass of himself and ask which was correct. "It wasn't really a stupid question." Jim didn't really know anything about London. Like Nestle was apparently a British company. Who knew? He thought it was American. "So, do you two live in London?" There were probably a billion cities outside of London, but to Jim London was basically the whole country.

"We do," Angela said, glad to have something to talk about other than America. How was she supposed to know they had Kit-Kats there? It wasn't an American company! She didn't know anything about America other than the president was Barack Obama and that's where all the most famous movie stars lived. Other than the Harry Potter lot and half of them probably lived over there too. She didn't exactly keep up with where they lived. Didn't Emma go to university over there? Maybe Jim knew her. Wait, he said he didn't know any famous people. Well, never mind that then. It could have been a talking point but it was probably best to leave it out for now.

"We live a few streets away." She waved her hands behind her, as if that told him exactly where they lived. She slowly eyed Angela, narrowing her eyes as if telling her to leave. It was awkward sitting with this American. Or Jim, as he said, with Angela next to her. They also must look so desperate. "We've-"

"Jim?" Michael shouted, as he opened the door to the cafe. He looked around quickly - it had been the sixth place he'd shouted into, trying to find him. He thought about texting him, but how far could he have gone? That'd be a waste of a text. Though he had unlimited.

"Michael, hey," Jim said, waving him over. "I got hungry, sorry. I figured you'd be in there for a while." He slid over in the booth to make room for him, even though now he was trapped inside. "Michael, this is Angela and Pam. They work here." He figured Michael would elaborate on his own so he didn't feel the need to add anything else. Plus it was obvious they were hot. He didn't really need to point that out.

Angela liked Michael instantly. He was much more her type. A little shorter than Jim (but still taller than she was) with dark hair and eyes. Without getting to know him it was impossible to tell whether he was mysterious and had a dangerous streak but he was certainly attractive enough to give it a go. And he was American too. There was nothing wrong with fooling around with an American a bit. It was an experience. Maybe a once in a lifetime experience. "Nice to meet you, Michael," Angela said, giving him a little wave from across the table and resisting the urge to hold out her hand for him to kiss.

Pam placed a hand over her mouth and chose to keep quiet, though she did let out a few laughs. What guy would go around yelling their friends names into different places? It was highly amusing. Plus, it was more interesting watching Angela, and Pam immediately mimicked her wave back to her, a smirk on her face. "Hi, Michael." None of that nice to meet you, crap. She wasn't sure if it was nice or if it wasn't yet.

Michael immediately sat down next to Jim, wide eyed as he looked at the two girls sitting with Jim. And now luckily, him. Holy hell, they were hot. And if they were sitting with him, then they had to be desperate. The brunette was very attractive. Nice rack. But the blonde, well, was blonde. And she seemed more polite. And she was short, which meant he could probably pick her up easily. "Nice to meet you, too. Both." He paused, looking towards Jim with a grin. "So you're both British, then?" He finally asked excitedly, not being able to keep his cool.

"Something wrong with your face?" Jim asked. It looked like Michael's grin was never going to go away.

"Isn't he funny?" Angela was still sucking up to the, though she didn't know why. Other than the fact that she wouldn't mind getting Michael in the corner of a dark room somewhere. Was that creepy, since they had just met? Maybe it was. But they were on holiday! They were supposed to do things they would regret when they got back to school and the real world. The Real World. That was a good program. Maybe Americans were really like that and Michael would be completely on board for her little fantasy.

"Nothing's wrong with my face." Michael quickly turned to Jim, narrowed eyes. "Don't say that in front of the g-i-r-l-s." He whispered harshly, rolling his eyes and looking back at the both of them. Angela was overly friendly. He liked that. Pam? She scared him. He didn't know why. But she gave off this scary kind of vibe.

Pam turned, seeing the older guys looking around. She knew it was for her. "If you'd excuse me, I need to go get felt up." She muttered, pushing back and making her way to the table. She meant exactly what she said. She deserved all the tips, because the amount of times they pet her arm or pat her back when they left, was just creepy. But she'd take it, for the cash.

"What does felt up mean here?" Michael asked Angela, and then turned towards Jim. "I don't want to assume..." Though if it was anything like what he thought it meant - he wouldn't mind feeling up the blonde in front of him.

"You know we can spell in England, right? We may talk a bit different but basic words are still spelled the same way." Michael was definitely not the dark mysterious type, but he was a bit silly and probably a lot of fun to be around. She would take it. "What does it mean in America? I'm sure it's probably the same thing." It wasn't like Pam was really being felt up. Just getting physically close with the customers. Which was a bit disgusting in her opinion, but for some reason Pam put up with it. Angela probably would have slapped them all. And then smiled, so she could still get her tips.

Jim smirked. "Yes, Michael. Explain that to her. That would be fun for all of us." He knew some things were different here, but the basics probably had to be the same. Even if it was, it was always fun to watch Michael try to explain things that were a bit more… sensitive in nature. He usually went overboard and tried to be delicate but ended up being overly explicit. It was always fun to watch.

Michael didn't know why Jim was grinning. Why was he grinning? What was funny? He rolled his eyes, focusing on Angela. "It's like groping." He paused slightly. Maybe she didn't know what that meant. "It's like, caressing..." Maybe they didn't know what that was either. "Touching someone. Most likely, sexually." He looked towards Jim, a pained expression on his face as if he wasn't sure if he'd said the right thing.

Pam made her way back over, sitting down and slamming her tips on the table in front of Angela. "Ah ha, look at this. Look at it."

"Have a nice day, Pamela," one of the older guys called while leaving. Pam didn't bother looking back as she waved a hand, dismissing them as she pointed to the tip, bringing Angela back to focus on how she always made more in tips. Without the stupid smiles.

Jim was honestly having a hard time deciding between laughing and just laying his head on the table and giving up completely, but to Angela's credit she didn't just laugh at him.

"Sexual touching, got it," Angela said, nodding seriously. So that was something they had in commons with Americans. Being felt up was the same. Good to know there wouldn't be any confusion on that front later. Angela quickly scooped up the money and counted it. "Not bad," she conceded. "But they come in what, twice a week? So two days a week you have good tips and the rest are complete rubbish. I get decent tips every day. So it evens out. I probably make more than you in tips, really." The key was smiling. Always smile. Or have a crack addicted, fatherless baby, like in that episode of Family Guy Pam had made her watch. Angela didn't quite get that show.

"You hardly make more than me. The only reason you make more in tips is because you're fake and you walk around smiling like every day is the best day of your life and there's just nowhere else you'd rather be which is a bloody lie." Angela already got paid more than Pam. And Angela got this job because of Pam. It was unfair. Everyone favored Angela. Even her parents. Someday, Pam would win. She grabbed the money out of Angela's hands and placed it in her pocket. "Why are you talking about sexual touching?"

"Michael brought it up," Angela said promptly. "It all started when you said you had to go get felt up. Then it turned into very dirty conversation and you missed it all."

"But on the plus side," Jim added. "We've discovered that felt up means the same thing here and in the States. So now you know."

Angela nodded sagely. "Knowledge. It's a very good thing to have." If they were lucky, Pam would be incredibly confused and she could just prolong that for a while. Pam never thought that was funny but Angela definitely got a kick out of it. Messing with Pam was one of her favorite daily activities, right after making toast for breakfast. Angela really loved toast, especially with jam.

Pam looked towards Jim, staring longer than she should have - but he was really easy on the eyes. She could probably just stare her whole day and never get bored. Well, as long as she got to touch. "I figured it did," She mumbled, looking back to Angela, a confused expression spreading on her face. "Wait, what? What dirty conversation?" She really hoped there was one, and Angela wasn't going to toy with her. Because it was enough she did it all the time, but in front of the hot American? Jim! Not needed.

"Totally dirty." Michael agreed, not really knowing what Angela was doing, but it was amusing enough for him to participate in. "Angela told us the things you like... you know." No, he didn't know. But maybe she would, or something.

"What?" Pam whispered loudly, looking over at Angela with wide eyes.

"Americans are very open about their sexuality!" Angela stage-whispered. "It's normal conversation for them. I was just trying to help us fit in a bit better."

Jim shrugged. "Sorry Pam, but it's working pretty well. We have a whole new level of respect for you now that we know incredibly descriptive details of your sex life." This could be a fun game, seeing how much they could make Pam blush. "Don't worry, though. She only told us the good stuff. Nothing too embarrassing. Unless you count… nope, I'm not even going to repeat it."

Why would Angela tell them things? How could she do that? That was just a new all-time low, even for her! She felt herself blush, immediately looking away as she tried to think about what Angela could have even told them. "Oh," she muttered nervously. Still having absolutely no idea. "That's... brilliant."

"C'mon, it's a good thing!" This was the first time Michael was actually in on the joke, and it wasn't about him. "I mean, what she told us? We never would have guessed. Jim's right, the level of respect is so high right now." Watching this girl who appeared to not have a care about much blush was hilarious.

"Really good," Jim agreed. "I mean, I didn't come here looking for a new hero or anything, but you might have made the list. She told us some pretty intense stuff and I have to say, I'm looking at you in a whole different light now."

It was so hard for Angela to not laugh out loud. Pam wasn't exactly prudish but she wasn't the type to discuss her sex life with strangers. Or have it discussed with strangers without her even being there. "Don't worry," Angela assured her. "They think you're great! We all do. So let's just put this little incident behind us and move on, okay? There's no need to be embarrassed or anything."

"Hero?" She muttered out, somewhat quietly. Now she really _really_ didn't know what she said. Pam wasn't exactly the type to get with a lot of guys, or really any guys. There had been times, of course, but she was really overall confused. And still extremely embarrassed. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore," she whispered, looking down at her lap and straightening out the fabric of her skirt.

"Okay, we won't talk about it anymore." Michael knew some people would feel bad, maybe, but this was great. "We'll just think about it... to ourselves." He was quiet for a second before shaking his head. "So dirty."

"You're making Pam feel self-conscious!" Angela exclaimed, looking at her friend. She was blushing more than Angela had ever seen, except perhaps for the time when they went to that amusement park and Pam threw up on the roller coaster after lunch. "It's okay, Pam," Angela said, patting her arm. "We'll just let it go and move on to a new topic, okay? We can talk about anything. You pick."

Pam glanced at Angela as she pattered her arm, her eyes somewhat narrowed. This was Angela's fault in the first place. How dare she tell them anything about her? Especially to Jim. The hot one. Though Michael seemed like the type you didn't wanna give information to, either. "I don't care what we talk about, just talk." She'd join in when the embarrassment passed through.

"We could talk about how both of your accents are _extremely_ hot." Michael suggested, looking towards Jim and nodding confidently.

"Really, Michael?" Their accents were hot, of course, but it wasn't the kind of thing you talked about. At least, not while the girls were actually there.

"You really think our accents are hot?" Angela asked. That was news to her. Did Americans like British accents? She didn't necessarily love American accents, but they were certainly intriguing. "Do all Americans think that or are you two just very weird?" They were probably just weird. They seemed a bit weird, but they were rather attractive so it was okay by her if they didn't have a problem with it. Wait, what? What exactly they were going to be doing that they might have a problem with? She was getting very ahead of herself. But there were no classes, Christmas was coming up… it was a magical time of year.

"I'm pretty damn sure that all Americans like British accents. Well, the smart ones do." Which would be why Michael and Jim liked them. Well, Michael liked them. He wasn't sure on Jim's take. Especially since he didn't just agree with him, though he hardly did. "Why? Do you two not like American accents?"

Pam looked up and eyed him, but didn't say a word. She loved American accents, actually. But she didn't need to tell them that. And she was still recovering.

"Oh, we love Americans," Angela said. Then she giggled, as if realizing her mistake. Intentional mistake. "I mean, American accents. They're brilliant." Not that she had really heard them much outside of movies, but they were always so nice to listen to in movies. Especially in that one movie… what was it? Sweet Home Alabama. They had southern accents in that one. They were wonderful.

"Good to know," Jim said to Angela, though he was looking at Pam. Maybe they had gone too far with the joking around. She was being very quiet now. He hadn't been the one to start it, though.

"Brilliant?" Michael repeated questioningly. He hadn't heard their accent called 'brilliant' before. He always thought their accent was plain. Well, he didn't think they had an accent at all. He felt like all the accents were built off of their normal plain accent. "It's not even an accent."

"It's an accent to us." Pam spoke up, "Just like our accents aren't accents to us... but they are to you. Like, our accents originated from China." No, not even close. But Michael seemed as gullible as she was at times.

"China? Seriously?" Michael asked with wide eyes, "That's not something I'd assume. I can't understand them at all."

"You'll have to excuse Michael," Jim said. "He was dropped on his head when he was a baby. A few times, actually."

"That's terrible," Angela said sympathetically, even though that was probably a lie because didn't babies die if you dropped them on their head? What a horrid thought. "I just hope you're okay now."

Jim shook his head sadly. "He's really not. It's been like nineteen years but he still hasn't recovered totally from the trauma. Sometimes he says things that just make no sense. And he will believe almost anything you tell him. It's sad, really."

"Sounds like Angela." No, actually it sounded like herself. But she wasn't going to say that. Angela had made her look dumb enough in front of both of them. "It's rough."

"I was never dropped on my head," Michael said suddenly, looking over at the three of them. "I was a healthy child and I hardly ever hit the ground. And everything I say makes sense, believe me. It's not my fault that Jim doesn't understand half the things I say. I'm far too smart and imaginative for him, really."

Michael always insisted he had a highly tuned imagination and that Jim just didn't understand him, but to be honest, sometimes Michael just seemed like he was high or something. "Yeah, something like that," Jim said, looking at his watch. He had already been there for an hour. His sandwich was long gone and the rest of his coffee was completely cold, but they still had hours before they had to be back at the hotel.

"I believe you, Michael," Angela said, patting his hand. "Don't worry. Jim just doesn't get it."

Michael glanced down at his hand. Did the blonde just touch him? It was a first that a girl looked at him over Jim. That felt good. Maybe he could get a little threesome if Pam didn't seem so hard to approach. "You're right, he doesn't."

"I'm sure he probably does." Pam muttered, smirking at Angela's lame flirting. It was almost embarrassing to watch. "Be careful, Angela's covered in diseases. She probably just passed you one."

Angela shrugged. "At least I'm a modest person, unlike you. And I smile and I'm a happy person. You're so sarcastic all the time everyone thinks you're a bitch."

"So you guys are friends, huh?" Jim intoned, looking back and forth between them. They seemed like friends. If they weren't friends they probably wouldn't both be sitting there. At least not peacefully. They were probably best friends, if he had to guess. They acted a lot like he and Michael did a lot of the time.

"Um, yeah," Angela said, looking at Jim like he was a dim. But he was being sarcastic, wasn't he? Even hanging around Pam so much it went over her head a lot. She just wasn't all that perceptive.

"Nobody thinks I'm a bitch." Pam didn't blame Jim, they were fighting a lot. There was a lot of name calling in their friendship, too. "Mhm, we're neighbors, actually. So, we've kinda been best mates since I can remember." It seemed crazy, but this was just her and Angela's friendship. They were used to it.

"Same here, except, he's not my neighbor. Thank god." Michael stressed, laughing until he looked at Jim and immediately stopped. Jim liked to play basketball a lot, and Michael wouldn't wanna live next to that and hear it all the time.

"We do live together though," Jim pointed out. "We've been roommates for the last year and a half at school." It just seemed like an easy decision at the time, but Michael was all about coming up with different systems for when they had girls over and he moved the furniture around a lot when Jim was in class. And then there was the time when he bought a dozen goldfish and they all died within the week… it was interesting, living with him.

"You live together at school? That's really cool." Angela wished she lived at university instead of living at home with her parents and siblings, but it was a lot more expensive. "So do you not have school right now? Are you on holiday break too?"

"I don't think I could ever live with someone. Dealing with them all the time?" She shuddered. Though if it was Jim she was living with... she was pretty sure she'd handle that. There would be a fee, though. The fee would be that Jim would have to walk around naked 23 hours of every day. Seemed fair.

"Uh, yeah. We're on vacation. Christmas vacation, but we're here with our college class. We're here for two weeks, actually." Michael explained, "It's a cool chance to get out of the country, but also we have to sit through boring ass plays." Ah, unless those were really great to people here... Maybe people really loved plays. He could hurt their feelings.

"Oh God, not Shakespeare, right?" Angela cringed. "America has Brad Pitt and Beyonce and that darling Jennifer Aniston and all we have is Shakespeare. Gross."

"He was kind of important to literature," Jim pointed out. "And the modern English language…"

Angela shrugged. "So? He was boring and nothing he ever wrote made sense. We had to see A Midsummer Night's Dream a few years ago for my literature class and it was terrible. All I remember was there were fairies and a donkey."

"That really wasn't bad," Jim argued. "I saw the movie. And it was okay."

"You're one of those people who likes books, aren't you? And reading. And probably writing." Angela hated everything that books. And reading. And writing. "That's terrible, really too bad. Try not to enjoy the plays too much. You're on holiday. Have fun."

"Just because you don't like to read, doesn't mean no one else does, you know." Of course the only thing Pam read were Friends scripts online, because they weren't on Netflix instant watch. But she enjoyed it either way. "I've only been to one, my mom dragged me to it but it actually became somewhat interesting." Could have been the fact that it was the musical Annie, but she'd leave that out. That was a great musical.

"Jim loves to read, and he loves English and blah blah blah. He'll probably cry at the end of the play, because it's over." Did Jim like Shakespeare? Michael didn't know, but he did know that Jim _would probably_ like things like that. Because he liked things that sucked.

Jim held up his hands in defeat. "I like reading, okay? Books are good. I'm not really into Shakespeare, but I never hated what we had to read in school. And I probably won't hate the plays, but I won't cry because they're over. So shut up."

"Feisty," Angela commented. "That's really weird though. Liking reading. That's not even a fun thing to do. At all."

"I know, right? Sometimes when I get back from class, he's reading on the couch, like it's normal. And it's not even a book for one of his classes, either," Michael told Angela, since Pam seemed to be taking his side. Or at least being nice. "He works at a damn bookstore."

Pam shook her head as she crossed one leg over the other before pulling her chair in a bit more. "You'll have to excuse Angela. Since she can't read, she puts down anyone who can."

"The only thing I've ever seen you read is things on the computer!" Angela exclaimed. "You could probably recite every episode of Friends from memory but if I handed you a book you wouldn't know what to do with it."

"All you have to do is open it and look at the words and hope they make sense." It was a pretty easy comment. "Friends is a good show, though," Jim said. "Do you guys get that over here? Reruns are on all the time in the states but you know, American show."

"Pam has all the series on DVD," Angela said, rolling her eyes. "It's not even a good show. Gossip Girl is rather good, though. I watch that online when I can find it."

"Not even a good show?" Pam gasped, turning towards her with wide eyes. "Take it back. It was on for ten years, obviously it was a good show!" Angela liked to say that it wasn't a good show, but she'd caught Angela laugh at it before. Friends was the best. "I had to buy all the DVDs because we probably don't have reruns as much as you lot. But we do have them sometimes." They should be on twenty four seven, but still. And she did appreciate the fact that Jim liked Friends. "Gossip Girl sucks, and I refuse to watch that."

"I watch Gossip Girl. Only because they're hot, though." Michael would stop on anything that was hot.

"It does not suck!" Angela flicked her arm. "Take it back, slag. I refuse to believe you don't watch it when you don't think I'm looking. I know you do." She probably didn't, but it really was her favorite program. Americans had much better actors and actresses than they did. Though she did like Skins quite a bit. It was so terrible but interesting at the same time. "The guys are rather hot," Angela agreed. "Though I'm sure you're not talking about them."

"The guys aren't that hot." Pam added quietly, shaking her head. Just like Angela, she had her own type of guys. And well, one happened to be sitting next to her. But she wasn't the greatest at flirting, especially when others were around.

"I'm not gay, but those guys are definitely attractive. And if you don't think that, then you just may like girls..." Michael muttered, pointing at Pam who rolled her eyes in response.

"Definitely not."

"Oh, I'm kidding. We _know_ you don't. At least, the things Angela told us didn't contain any girl on girl action..."

"Oh, she's all about the girl on girl," Angela assured him. "I just didn't tell you because she walked back over too quickly." Before Pam could say something mean to her or hit her or something, Cesar walked over.

"Hey! People are starting to walk up to the kitchen window to shout their orders at me. It's unpleasant! Stop bothering these nice young men and get back to work!" Angela shook her head. Cesar was so demanding. But he was in charge when the owner wasn't there, and she did respect him. However, she did not want to go back to work. She wanted to sit there and talk to Michael.

"It's unpleasant? Well it's unpleasant for me standing at the moment, too. I've been in here since this morning and my feet are dead," Pam spoke back, something she never knew how to stop.

"You also broke two plates today, so let's go." Cesar didn't bother listening and made his way back to the kitchen.

Ah, Pam had forgotten about those. That was why she told him not to make her do the dishes. "Alright, let's go. Can't afford to lose this job; it's not like I'll find another." Her parents and their stupid 'Pam you need to be on your own and learn how to get money and blah blah blah.' It was the worst. "So, uh… it was nice to meet you…" She said while looking at Jim, and then slowly looking towards Michael. "You both. Nice to meet you both."

"Nice to meet you too," Jim said, looking at the girls. It kind of sucked that they had to go back to work. He was having fun, hanging out with them. It was cool to actually know some people who weren't with their group. "Hey, we'll be here for two weeks. So maybe we'll see you guys again."

Two weeks? That was practically a lifetime. Angela didn't even have any plans for what she was going to do after work. "You should definitely come back again," Angela said. "You know, if we're around. We might not be." Okay, she wasn't good at playing hard to get at all and she and Pam basically live at the café over school holidays because the extra time meant extra money, but she couldn't exactly said 'Oh yes, please come back! We'll die without you here!'

"Excuse Angela, again. She likes to pretend as if she has a life on the holiday's other than working." Pam muttered, leaning closer to the guys as if keeping it a secret. "But, yeah, maybe we'll see you." She smiled, making sure it actually looked someone genuine before she finally went back behind the counter. What a drag.

"We'll definitely be back." Michael responded, raising his eyebrows at Jim. These were the girls they'd get it in within the next two weeks. Or at least he would. Jim liked to know a girl first, before he got with them... Michael thought it was crazy.

"Great," Angela said, smiling and giving him a little wave before following Pam back behind the counter. "See you then!" she called, walking into the kitchen to actually do her job, unlike she had been doing for the past hour.

"Yeah," Jim said, nodding at Michael. "I think we'll definitely be back."


	4. Singing and Walking Dogs

**A/N: **So this is the long awaited chapter four. Becki's still Angela. Shelbee is still Pam. I'm going to stop writing that soon because it's not going to change. Too British? Not British enough? Let us know because we don't know what the hell we're doing.

We still don't own The Office. Just Andy and Blair.

* * *

><p>"So do you think we can see them again?" Angela asked, dipping the brush back in the pot of nail polish. "Before they come back to the café? Because they might not, you know." Pamela was sleeping over at Angela's house, like they'd done every Friday since they were in primary school together. "I know we just saw them a few hours again, but I really want to see them again! Do you think they're on Facebook?" Not that they knew their last names. Or their mobile numbers. They really should have gotten their numbers before they left. Or the other way around. Angela had no problem giving her number to the gorgeous American boys. "Can we please try to find them on Facebook? I bet they lots of hot pictures…" Angela was all about looking up people on Facebook and checking out all their pictures and friends, but Pam thought it was creepy a lot of the time. Sometimes the people they went to university with had hot friends! There was nothing wrong with it.<p>

Pam waved her hands around, trying to dry the polish she'd managed to get on her fingernails somewhat neatly. Her left hand always looked perfect, but her right hand was a bit of a joke. "I don't know, I didn't ask them. I heard the same things you did, you know." She reminded her, glancing up at her and carefully pushing herself off the bed. The thing Pam was best at, was smudging her nail polish and having to redo it for the hundreth time. "You're kidding, right? Facebook? We'll never find them, and may I add that we'd look extremely bonkers if we did? We'd have to go through pages, and to care that much is just... embarrassing." But she knew there was no way she'd be able to talk Angela out of this, so she headed for Angela's laptop, anyway.

Angela shook her head, tossing the polish on the floor. "We know what they look like," she pointed out. "And we know their first names and they're from Pennsly… somewhere. We can look that up if we need to. Where the Hershey factory is." Angela was crap at remembering names and places, but that was what the internet was for. "We can find them! And how do you know they aren't looking for us on Facebook right now? They have as much information on us as we do on them." It was incredibly flattering to think they might be looking for her on Facebook. Unlike Pam she didn't think it was an "invasion of privacy" to stare at people on the internet. If their profiles weren't set to private then it was just fine.

"Yeah, but some guys like to put their profile pictures as ridiculous things... like footballs, or cars." Pam explained, immediately claiming the computer chair and opening the laptop. "Pennsylvania." She quickly responded, logging into Facebook and being greeted with her newsfeed. "Aw," She said softly, pointing at her own profile picture. "I miss Andy." Her profile picture was a picture of herself, and her cat - Andy. She let out a soft sigh before going to the search bar. "I don't know how to look for, first. And I'm probably not going to request them, either. I won't be able to handle the awkwardness..."

"You'll see him tomorrow," Angela said, rolling her eyes. Pam was obsessed with that cat. Cats in general, really. Angela was more of a dog person. Cats didn't even do anything. And yet Pam still tried to sneak Andy over at least once or twice a month, even though Angela's dog hated him because Andy ate all her food. Blair was a perfect dog and every bit as sassy as her namesake. Much better than Pam's cat, though she would never tell Pam that. "Just search… Michael, Pennsylvania." That probably wouldn't do anything, though. It was too broad. "Or Jim," Angela conceded, though she really did prefer Michael. "Either one would work, really." Or it wouldn't at all and they would be back at square one.

"Tomorrow's so long away, though..." Pam mumbled quietly, clicking the search box over and over as she waited for what she should do. "Well whoever we find, we'll most likely find the other, so it doesn't really matter." But she typed in Michael, because she knew Angela was more interested in him. How? She didn't know, but she also didn't care. She was somewhat relieved. "Oh, great..." She scrolled down the page, shaking her head. "Michael is such an unoriginal name we'll never find him. Or Jim." Why did they have to have the simplest of names?

Angela hadn't considered that before. "They really are common names," she mused. "Do any of the last names look like ones they might have?" That was rather stupid. She shouldn't have said that. They could have any last names in the world. Like Pam's last name was Beesly. That was a completely ridiculous last name and about a billion people had even sillier last names. But the bonus with Pam's last name was that she was easy to find on Facebook. Unlike Angela Martin, of which there were at least seven pages worth of people. And fan pages, as apparently some character on an American television show had the same name. What if Jim and Michael were like that? They could be Jim Smith and Michael Jones for all she knew. They would never find them, and she was getting rather discouraged.

Pam paused for a second, glancing up at Angela with a dumfounded look. She wasn't serious about wondering whether one of the last names looked like Michael's, was she? "Uh," she laughed slightly, shaking her head. She scrolled down slowly. "I wish you could place their age, at least. The only other option is their job, or education and I haven't the slightest clue." She clicked the next page and slowly scrolled again, her eyes narrowing as she tried to find a profile picture that looked like Michael. She quickly stopped and pointed at a picture next to the name 'Michael Scott'. "Is that him?" she asked, tilting her head. He looked like him, but it was hard to tell. He had a microphone and it looked like he was singing. Karaoke, maybe?

Okay, so it was a dumb thing to say. Whatever, Angela said dumb stuff all the time. Pam did too, and they always gave each other shit for it. It balanced out their friendship. "I dunno, do I?" Angela squinted at the picture. "It's too hard to tell when it's little. Click on it." She knocked Pam's hand out of the way and clicked on the link herself because she was far too impatient for Pam to debate doing it or not. "I think it is!" she said, examining his profile picture. So Michael did karaoke? Interesting… It was something to file away in her mental bank of information, although if she brought it up in conversation he would definitely know she had checked out his profile. "Holy crap, I didn't expect to actually find him that easy. He does look like a Michael Scott though, doesn't he?"

Pam frowned, her eyes narrowed as Angela knocked her hand out of the way. Well then, she could be that way! She leaned close to the screen again; it definitely was him. That was too easy. Was Pennsylvania small? Maybe it was. She didn't know that much. "Yeah, I guess now that you say it... he does look like a Michael Scott. It fits." She slapped Angela's hand away and clicked 'wall,' watching it show all of his statuses and comments. "He's not even private… you could stalk him."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Please, like I would ever stalk someone I barely know on Facebook." She only ever actively stalked people she had never met in her life. Occasionally she would peruse the profiles of people she knew, but she was slightly paranoid that they would find out somehow. Really though, she barely knew Michael. They had talked for all of ten, fifteen minutes earlier? Forty-five, tops. She didn't know much more than his name and where he lived. "Jim wrote on his wall," she pointed out, poking the screen. "You should look at his profile. After we look at Michael's." She navigated back to his main profile. "His interests include singing and walking dogs. I can't for the life of me tell if that's a joke or not…" There was nothing wrong with it if it wasn't a joke. Angela liked dogs. And singing, especially when the radio was turned up really loudly so she couldn't actually hear herself.

Pam immediately found herself more interested in this when she heard Jim's name. She leaned forward, "Jim Halpert." Halpert? What an interesting last name. She'd never heard that name before. She liked unique names, like her own, though it resulted in odd nicknames. Like when guys called her Bee's and thought it was cool and original. It wasn't. "Singing and walking dogs? Sounds like you. Does he like being moronic too? Then you two would be perfect!" Michael did seem like an interesting person, though. "Oh, look at this status from... last night? 'Off to England with Jimothy.'" And right then, Pam realized Michael had to be one of the people who made up annoying nicknames.

"Jimothy?" Angela groaned. "Oh god, he's one of those people. But he was so charming earlier! And I bet he's funny. Doesn't he seem like he would be funny?" He was attractive, too. That didn't hurt at all. Jim was nice looking, but he looked just like about a million other guys at university. There was something about Michael that was completely unique, though Angela couldn't quite put her finger on what. She would have to spend more time with him, or at least look at his Facebook pictures more. "So, these are definitely our guys. Now what? Do we add them or just look at their profiles for a while?" It was a bit sketchy to just add them when they didn't even know their last names. Or they hadn't at the time when they talked to them. Now they did, thanks to the wonders of the internet.

Pam slowly shrugged her shoulders, just as confused on what to do. "I don't know. We'd look extremely sketchy..." She clicked Jim's name and watched his profile appear, realizing she was being sketchy too. But it was hard not to. His profile picture was a picture of himself, with sunglasses on. He also looked absolutely gorgeous and despite her 'let's not be sketchy' talk, she scrolled down to make sure he was single. And he was. Awesome. "These aren't our guys," she clarified. "Yet." She wouldn't say no if he asked for her hand in marriage. Their babies would be gorgeous. "I've got an idea." She quickly logged out before typing in Angela's login then typed Jim Halpert (much easier to find than Michael) and clicked on a comment Michael had posted. Without hesitation, she requested Michael. "There. And if Jim sees me, he could add me this way. Splendid."

"Wow, thanks," Angela said, pushing her aside. "I need to stop saving my passwords automatically." Not that she minded. She probably would have added Michael on her own. Unlike Pam, she knew she was creepy and didn't care if people thought she was. It was a way to make friends and she had already met Michael. They had obviously given enough information about themselves to be looked up on Facebook so they couldn't complain. If they didn't want a friend request or two they would have been much more hesitant to share information earlier. "What if Jim doesn't friend request you? What if doesn't even notice that I'm Michael's friend and he never looks at your profile?" Angela couldn't resist getting Pam all riled up sometimes, though it was probably a bit mean. But it was entirely funny so it evened out.

"I know your password anyway, so it doesn't matter." Pam knew a lot of Angela's passwords for pretty much every site she used. It was humorous that Angela thought her 'unsaving it automatically' would stop Pam. Nah, not a chance. She looked up, raising an eyebrow before shaking her head. "Stop that," she muttered quietly, absentmindedly clicking things on Michael's profile. "You think _Michael_ is the type of bloke to keep it to himself? I feel like he's the type to tell Jim everything, as a way of bragging almost. He just appears that way." She paused. "And if he doesn't request me then, well..." How couldn't he? What if he didn't, though? That'd be so embarrassing. Not to mention Angela would never let her live it down. "Then that's fine..."

"You're a really awful liar," Angela said, picking up her puppy. How did Pam like cats better? Her dog was way better. She loved being with Angela all the time. Pam's cat probably just ignored her. And did Pam have a little pet door installed in her bedroom door? No. She did not. Angela did, which showed that she obviously loved her dog a lot more than Pam did. Though her parents had gotten rather upset when they came home after a weekend away and found out that Angela "destroyed" her bedroom door. "If he doesn't add you, you will be absolutely crushed and you know it. I'm sure he will though. Especially if he has a really dirty dream about you tonight."

"Am I, Angela? Am I?" she said, half interested in the conversation and half not. Sure, she'd rather Jim add her than not add her. But that better not happen. She didn't even wanna think about that. "Oh right, I'm sure he had such a naughty dream about a waitress from a random cafe he went to, today. You're right." She clicked Michael's profile pictures and instantly laughed. "Look at this. Basically all of his pictures are with Jim. Maybe they're secretly dating and we should quit while we're ahead?"

"I'm sure he will," Angela said suggestively. "That saucy ginger from the café…" Pam always said she was a brunette, but she had enough red in her hair to be a ginger. So of course Angela exploited any opportunity to call her one. "Oh god, do you think they're really gay?" There wasn't anything wrong with that, of course. Gay people were great. Not any greater than straight people; she didn't have a fetish or anything. It would just ruin her chances with Michael if he was already getting into Jim's pants. "I hope they're not gay. Bisexual I can work with though, if it comes down to it."

"Ginger?" She muttered, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head. "I'm a bloody brunette, leave it alone. At the most, it's auburn. But I wouldn't even call it that. It's not red at all." No one in her family was redheaded and she just didn't see herself as a redhead. There was nothing wrong with that, but she just found she was a brunette. And she had some natural highlights. But no red. "I was joking, calm down..." She laughed, scanning each picture and just laughing a bit lighter each time. "Look at them, they're so adorable." She liked that they were best friends. Just like her and Angela. "God, he better request me..." She finally added, running the cursor over his face, with a grin. "He is so fine."

"He is pretty gorgeous," Angela agreed. "But not as gorgeous as Michael. Sorry, but he just wins that contest." Jim was too classically good-looking. Michael was much more attractive. And together they made great best friends. How adorable would they look with her and Pam? They could go out on dates together and make everyone insanely jealous of their combined genetic prowess. And their children would win any beauty pageant, no contest. "So do you think we'll see them tomorrow? We better, after you added Michael on Facebook like a complete creep. They wouldn't ignore that and just not come back to the café, right? Maybe he'll accept the request right away and we can make plans tonight." God, that would be great. Angela was not the best at waiting around for things to happen.

"Not as gorgeous as Michael, are you bloody blind?" she whispered, mostly to herself, because she wasn't going to fight Angela on something so obvious. She pressed the home button, and randomly started clicking the 'like' button on the most annoying people's statuses - smirking as she did so. "We could see them, sure. You never know." Pam did like being optimistic, but she usually wasn't. "He could ignore you, label you as creepy and that makes me creepy by the default of being your best friend and then it all goes downhill and you die alone with your dog..."

"Okay, shut your bloody fucking trap," Angela said, shoving her desk chair across the floor and sending Pam along for the ride. "That's not even logical. I won't be dying alone if Blair is with me. Slag." It was fine for Pam to take the piss out of Angela but once she brought her dog into it things got intense. Angela scrolled down the page, un-liking all the things Pam had arbitrarily liked. "Should we just get off Facebook for the night? Whatever happens happens, right?" They could certainly find something to do instead of stare at Facebook all night, waiting for an accepted friend request that might not even come.

"Oh, vicious. It's kinky. Hopefully Michael likes a real dominatrix." Pam snickered, standing from the seat and coming up behind her, watching her unlike all of the things and immediately frowning. Why didn't she like that? It was funny. Like when Pam liked people's statuses when it said "bad day" or "i'm sick." It was just hilarious. "We should get off Facebook. Because you're going to look like you were waiting for him if you're still online when he accepts your stalking request." She muttered, smirking before making her way back over to the bed.

"Oh, yeah, okay," Angela said, flipping her off. "You were the one that friend requested him! And you liked everything on my feed." Pam thought she was so clever but all of Angela's Facebook friends probably just thought she was a weirdo. "I will get off Facebook though. Not because he'll think I'm a stalker but because it's boring." Facebook was interesting for about five minutes, but after that it was just shit. "Okay, moving on. Not thinking about them. No more Facebook."


	5. Friday Sleepover With the Slag

**A/N: **Becki is Jim. Shelbee is Michael. We really don't own anything this chapter. Not them, not The Office. We're not quite that good.

* * *

><p>Michael dropped himself down on the hotel bed, humming loudly and obnoxiously. He opened his laptop, slowly turning his humming into singing, "Sweet chocolate sugar coated candyman," He then quickly stopped, his eyes widening as he clicked the one friend request he had waiting on Facebook. Whoa. He was not expecting that, at all. Had he even told her his last name? He glanced over at Jim who had been ignoring him for the past few minutes. "Dude, look." He turned his laptop towards jim. "The Brit liked what she saw." He exclaimed, raising his eyebrows with the widest grin.<p>

"Seriously?" How did she even find him? Michael Scott was a pretty common name. "Nice." Angela Martin. Her profile picture was of her and Pam. "That's definitely her. Are you going to accept it?" That was probably a stupid question. Of course he was going to accept her friend request. He accepted everyone's friend requests, especially the girls. "Check out her profile. Is she single?" Of course what he really meant was go find Pam's profile and see if she's single, but this would have to do for now. It was Michael's computer and Jim would let him look at all of Angela's photos and statuses for as long as he wanted. Because he was nice. For now.

"Seriously." Michael didn't know how he was found, and his brain wasn't even thinking of that. Maybe she had spent the whole day going through thousands of pages, who knew. "Well, yeah I'm going to accept it. Why wouldn't I?" He kept the laptop still turned slightly towards Jim as he clicked accept before viewing her profile. "They look a lot more friendly in pictures..." Not that Angela wasn't friendly. He was obviously speaking about Pam. He followed Jim's instructions, scrolling down the page. "Single! Yes, that's perfect." He nodded, clearly proud of causing such an effect on a girl. "Angela Martin. Common name. Well, as common as mine..." He was definitely going to get it in.

"Wow, you guys have everything in common," Jim said dryly. "They really do have a lot of pictures together." Even the album cover for 'Holiday '08 3' was a picture of the two of them. Along with most of the others, except one that was an album entirely dedicated to her dog. Wow. Maybe she and Michael did have a lot in common. Michael always tried to get Jim to agree to getting a dog, even though they lived in the dorms. "What about Pam? What's her last name?" Not that he was going to stalk her or anything like that. They were just on the topic of last names.

"They do." It was like looking at his own pictures of him and Jim. Jim did have a few of them, but he obviously didn't want everyone to be jealous of how close they were - so he let it slide. "We do have everything in common, wow." He stated, seeing the album of her dog. Man, he loved dogs. "Pam's last name is... Beesly." Well, that was definitely unique. He can't say he'd ever heard that one before. "I know this because she left a wall post... twenty minutes ago saying, 'You are just the worst kind of person.' And then she liked it herself." She liked her own wall post. That was something.

So Pam knew Family Guy. He was pretty positive that line was from Family Guy. When Brian drew a picture of hanging himself instead of writing Stewie's memior. From the episode where Stewie was obsessed with tanning. Not that he watched it a lot or anything. "You should add her, too," Jim said. He would definitely add her when he got on the computer. After all, Angela added Michael. That was the first step for them to all add each other. And he was already Facebook friends with Michael so the next logical step was adding Pam.

"I don't know if I should..." Michael said skeptically, hovering over her name. "She's kind of intimidating. Look at her, with her cat..." It was actually a picture that wasn't scary. He clicked her name and glanced over the information. "Can't see if she's single without adding her. I'm too scared." He tried clicking her pictures, but she had a privacy block on everything. What bullshit. "I say you add her. She was nice to you."

"Are you serious right now?" Jim pushed Michael out of the way and looked at Pam's incredibly limited profile. "Michael. That's a kitten. That's not even a fully grown cat." He wasn't much of a cat person but the picture was pretty cute. Though it might have been because of the girl that was in it. Toss up, really. "If you're too afraid to add her I can click the button for you." Then, without bothering to sign into his own account, he sent her a friend request. "Look at how easy that was. Way to go, buddy. You almost did it."

"It doesn't matter. She's evil." The cat or Pam? Michael didn't know. He also didn't know if the cat was a girl, but he didn't care. "No, don't. She'll harass me from afar. I just have that gutsy feeling. What if -" It was too late. Jim had sent the request without even asking. He narrowed his eyes, "What the hell! If you wanted to see her profile, why don't you just add the chick?" There was no way to undo a friend request. So it was out there. "If she's in a relationship, than doing that was worthless." He muttered, clicking back to Angela's page, reading her status out loud. "Friday sleepover with the slag!" He was silent as he clicked the comments. "It's obviously Pam, because she commented 'Your mum doesn't pay me enough for this.'" Why weren't they at the sleepover with those girls? Why wasn't Michael watching them have a pillowfight in their underwear?

Facebook just put everything out there for them. A couple hours ago Pam and Angela were two girls without last names working at a café. Now they were almost Facebook friends and he and Michael could potentially crash their sleepover if they knew where Angela lived. That could be fun… Of course, that was just impossible. It was sort of creepy and all they knew was Angela lived sort of near the café where they worked. "If she is in a relationship then at least you have another Facebook friend for your collection," Jim pointed out. He edged past Michael and looked at Angela's page. "What does slag mean? Is that a British thing?" There was a lot to be learned from their Facebook pages. They used weird words that Jim had never seen before and now he knew Pam liked Family Guy. Or accidentally quoted it very accurately.

"Collection? I'm not collecting friends. I just have a lot." People loved him; was that a crime? It certainly wasn't. Michael opened up a new window and typed in the word 'slag' on Google. "It pretty much means whore," he said after seconds of scanning the results. Classy. "Hey, hey, notification." Michael muttered, clicking back to Facebook. "Pamela Beesly has accepted your friend request." Michael turned the laptop slowly towards Jim. "Go ahead. I know you wanna find out." She had to have been single, because she had seemed a bit into Jim. But maybe the cat in her picture was her boyfriend. Was bestiality legal here? Gross.

"I'm not like a stalker or anything," Jim said, though he did take the laptop from Michael. "You could've looked at her page just as easily as I could have." Truthfully, he really did want to see Pam's profile. Not that he was looking to hook up with her or anything (though if it came down to it he definitely would), but they'd had fun talking earlier. Maybe they had more in common than he though. "She likes Family Guy," he said, scrolling past her interest section. He already suspected it, but that was proof. "And Friends. Do all British people watch American TV shows?" They did have their own TV shows over here, didn't they? Like that Skins show that MTV remade. After giving her profile a fairly thorough look, he turned back to Michael. "It says she's single," Jim said, handing him the laptop back. "Since I know you cared so much."

"I never said you were, but you could be. Facebook should make you put your address down." But that also may be stupid, that's slightly dangerous. But it'd be really handy. He watched Jim take the laptop and smirked, leaning over to watch him. "Family Guy? Look, you two are a match." Jim claimed he didn't watch it too much, but Michael had seen him watch it more than others. "We knew she liked Friends. And they watch American TV, because we rule?" What was better than America? Nowhere. Except the girls here were hotter. And the accent. Damn them. He took the laptop back and shook his head, "I didn't care. You did." He clicked back to her wall. "She may be single, but a guy who looks fairly attractive commented on her wall yesterday," Michael told him, glancing over. "Competition. He said, 'Hey, wanna go for a bite tomorrow?' How creepy." He then laughed, "Never mind, there's no competition. She answered 'never.'" Michael couldn't help but laugh. What girl did that? Didn't even let the guy down easy. He'd pay to see her do that to Jim. Was that horrible? Oh well, he had told Jim she seemed scary, so his part was done.

Maybe the guy who commented on her wall wasn't competition, but there had to be a dozen other guys out there who were after her. Guys she actually knew and had hung out with for more than a half hour at some little coffee shop. She was certainly friends with more guys than she was girls on Facebook, at least judging by her partial display of friends. What did it matter, though? He was only going to be in England for two weeks. It's not like he was looking to fall in love and marry her or anything. She was just someone he sort of knew now that he could maybe hang out with while he was here. "I barely know her," Jim pointed out, taking the laptop back and signing into his own account. "I wouldn't really call other guys she talks to 'competition'. I just met her today and he's probably known her more than six hours." Of course, it wasn't like he was going to give up. He pulled up Pam's page and sent her a friend request along with sending one to Angela. He was Facebook friends with people who lived in his dorm that he'd barely even talked to. He could definitely be Facebook friends with Pam and Angela. Especially since they had friend requested Michael first.

"You barely know her now, sure," Michael started, watching him take over his computer and adding both the girls. "But you can learn more about her, especially through Facebook." He turned the laptop back towards him and brought it to the homepage, quickly updating Jim's status to say 'In England with Michael. How did I ever get such a great good-looking best friend?' He then turned towards Jim, "What if Pam doesn't add you? That'd be hilarious." He turned back to the screen, watching the notification pop up that she had in fact added him. "Damn it. She's obviously on now..." 'Jim Halpert and Pamela Beesly are now friends.' Michael grinned as he quickly liked the new friendship, making Jim look extremely eager. But also hilarious.

"You're an ass," Jim said, leaning over him to log out. "What would they call it here? A wanker. You're a wanker." Michael updated Jim's status for him every chance he got, though he had gotten a lot tamer after he posted "Hey, I'm gay!" and Jim's grandma called him and talked to him about the evils of homosexuality for an hour and a half. Jim had put it on speaker phone and made Michael listen to the last 45 minutes of the lecture. Things had gotten a little bit better on Facebook after that, though Jim's grandma was still mad with him after making such an inappropriate joke. "Why did you like that? You're making me look really stupid." Which, of course, was one of Michael's favorite things.

"Wanker?" He asked, glancing over at him and rolling his eyes. "Right, I don't think that's an actual word." Jim used a lot of words that Michael had never heard before, so he was pretty sure he made them up. Cause Michael knew a lot. He frowned as Jim logged out, placing the laptop back in front of him. "Because it's awesome. Now she's going to see that you like the friendship, and you're going to look like such a creep. Who likes their own friendships?" He laughed again once he logged in and saw it himself - but it was from a different prospective, so it was even funnier. "Now we're all added." He paused, looking at the online list. "Why the fuck did you log off? Here." He turned his laptop. "If you log back on, Pam's online. Ask them where they live and if we need to bring condoms."

"Aren't you friends with Pam too? You ask her." Jim was all for hanging out with them, but he wasn't about to act like a stalker. Since Michael had suggested it in the first place he probably wouldn't be bothered by looking like a total creep. "It's faster that way," he reasoned. "By the time I log in she might be logged out already." Knowing Michael, he would actually fall for that. Jim had sent Pam a friend request and she had accepted it. They were now Facebook friends. As far as he was concerned, that was enough for now. And if they went back to the café tomorrow (which they probably would, because it was close to the hotel and they knew where it was) and Pam and Angela happened to be working again then that would be a bonus.

"Ah, that's true. Plus, you could forget your password and then it'd take forever..." He thought out loud, his cursor hovering over Pam's name, the cat in the picture glaring at him as if daring him. How _dare_ that cat dare him? He didn't even know that cat. "Fine, I'll do it..." He began to type, but then stopped. "What do I say to her? I mean, she definitely was more interested in you." It had been obvious, but that was alright. Because it had also been obvious that Angela had been more interested in Michael, and that was awesome. "How should I invite us over?"

"I really don't think you should just invite us over," Jim said, moving in to read the pending conversation. "That's probably a little rude here." Considering it was rude in America, despite the fact that Michael did it all the time in high school. Jim would be working on a research paper or a huge project and Michael would just walk in and sit on his bed and play video games and swear at the TV until Jim kicked him out. "Just ask when they're free to hang out or something. Don't make plans for them. And don't insist on hanging out tonight, either."

"Of course you don't. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't be best friends. You don't ask anyone to do anything, that's why I come to your house unannounced." Plus, Michael knew that sometimes Jim would say no, but Jim's parents wouldn't turn him down. They liked him; they were his second family. Half the time he was over there more than his house. "Alright... I will. I don't wanna give her the wrong impression. I'm not into her, not my type." Well, he wouldn't turn her down, but Angela was more his type. So instead, he quickly typed.

_Michael Scott: Jim wants to know when you're free?_

"Really? That's what you're going to do?" Jim shook his head. "I could've signed onto my own account to do that." He should've known Michael would throw his name in there. Pam clearly hadn't been interested in Michael earlier. She wasn't a bitch to him or anything but she definitely didn't pay that much attention to him compared to Jim. "If she thinks I'm a total creep it's your fault."

Michael couldn't help but laugh, didn't Jim know him at all? He should have seen it coming! But then again, that wouldn't have made it very fun. "She won't think you're a creep. It's your fault, you should have logged in."

_Pamela Beesly: I'm sorry, do I know you?_

Michael looked up at Jim with a confused expression, mixed with a bit of hurt. "Is she serious? I can't tell. I wouldn't even be able to tell in person, but online?"

_Michael Scott: Uh... we met at the café? Ya know, I'm Jim's friend?_

Was Pam just messing with Michael or was she serious? That made all the difference. If she was just messing with Michael then it was definitely funny, but if she didn't remember then that was rude and a little ditzy. Not great. She was good looking, but not enough to overlook the fact that she was completely brainless, if she was. He didn't think she was though. "She's probably joking," Jim said. "I don't think she's that forgetful."

_Pamela Beesly: Are you sure that was today? I don't work on Friday's._

"I can't tell... this is both hurtful and dumb. Maybe this girl is a moron. Or maybe she had a '50 First Dates' kinda thing going on..." How couldn't she remember him? Or Jim? Or that she worked today.

_Michael Scott: Is this a joke...? Maybe I added the wrong person._

"I know I didn't, but just in case..." He muttered, staring at her picture and narrowing his eyes.

_Pamela Beesly: Maybe you did?_

_Pamela Beesly: Okay, sorry, Angela's freaking out and telling me I'm mean. Hi, Michael._

"Told you she was joking," Jim said, reading the conversation. He knew there was no way she was that dumb. For all he knew she was a college dropout who was selling weed to support herself, but she hadn't seemed dumb when he had been talking to her earlier. "Can you please just wrap this up so she doesn't think we're obsessed with her or something?"

"But we are obsessed..." he muttered jokingly, glancing over at Jim and rolling his eyes. "She's not gonna think we're obsessed. I mean, technically she did add us first. Or, well, Angela did. But she was there - remember?" Because they were having a sleepover. Angela's status said that. Pam was the slag.

_Michael Scott: Oh, ha, yeah. I knew it was a joke... anyway. What are you two up to?_

"Okay, that seemed creepy..." Michael muttered, shaking his head.

_Pamela Beesly: How'd you know I was over here? Are you stalking?_

_Michael Scott: No! Her status!_

_Pamela Beesly: Kidding, relax, sheesh. We are currently doing absolutely nothing._

"What should I say?" Michael whispered, as if they could hear.

"I don't know," Jim said. "It's your conversation. Say whatever you want. I want to be left out of this completely until I know for sure she doesn't think you're a total creep." Of course, Jim had just added her and Michael brought up his name in the first message he sent her so she would probably know he was involved. But still. At this point he could still be barely involved.

"It's your conversation too, because you're next to me. And you happen to be reading it, so..." Sometimes Michael wondered if Jim was completely brain dead. But he wouldn't ask him that, because it could be rude.

_Michael Scott: Oh, yeah, same here. I was just wondering._

"That's nonchalant, right? It's not all _hey, look at us! Invite us!_ But it also sort of... shows all the possibilities..." Michael hoped maybe they'd pick up on it. Maybe they could invite them. It'd make Michael one happy guy. And well, Jim, maybe. Michael never understood his emotions.

_Pamela Beesly: Hm. Hold on a second, I need to have a word with Angela._

"I'm not actually taking part in the conversation," Jim pointed out. "The actual talking is all you. I haven't told you what to say yet and I'm not going to." Though maybe he should, because the 'I was just wondering' seemed like he was wondering for a specific reason. It was basically like saying 'I was just wondering if you wanted to hook up with me.' "A word with Angela? Maybe this is going somewhere."

"Yeah, but you're still here and you would take part if I made you. So maybe you should stop fighting me on this." Michael tried waiting patiently, but weren't words quick?

_Michael Scott: Alright._

There. He didn't need to say any more than that. "It could very well be going somewhere.. and you owe me for this. Because if I hadn't done this, we wouldn't be invited over." He paused, well, they weren't exactly invited over… yet. "Well, if we are. I feel like we may be."

_Pamela Beesly: Sorry, anyway. This may seem weird, bit rushed. We did just meet you today. But anyway, we're bored. You're obviously not doing anything. Spoke with Angela, and we were wondering if you'd like to come over for a bit?_

_Pamela Beesly: You, meaning both of you._

So they'd been invited over. Well, it wasn't like they were doing anything at Jim's. They never did. Michael always tried to get Jim to play video games with him but those got boring after about twenty minutes. But going over to Angela's house… that wouldn't be boring. "Tell her yes," Jim said. What the hell. It would certainly be an interesting addition to the night and it wasn't like they were being kept under lock and key during the trip. No one would notice they were gone and even if they did they wouldn't care.

"Tell her yes?" Michael said with a bit of a surprised voice, "What is that, Jim Halpert wants to have fun? I have to write this down. I never thought I'd see the day." No, Jim was a lot of fun. Which was why they were best friends. But he definitely wasn't usually as up for an adventure as Michael was.

_Michael Scott: That sounds great. What's the address?_

_Pamela Beesly: Really? Cool. 34 Grape Lane. If you pass the cafe, it's the third street on the left._

_Michael Scott: Grape Lane?_

_Pamela Beesly: What? It's a good fruit. It's a good street. I mean, we're both on it so... bye!_

Michael shut the laptop looking at Jim with a huge grin. "And now we have something to do."


	6. A Leopard Print Kind of Guy

**A/N: **We're back! It hasn't been updated in a while but this chapter is incredibly long partly to make up for it and partly because we got carried away. But we like it. Too bad we don't own it. But we do own Jules! She popped up in a roleplay a while ago and refuses to leave.

* * *

><p>Pam hummed along to the music that Angela had playing from her laptop, once in a while adding in the words but usually too busy to think of what they were. She opened up the window and reached out to touch the branch of the tree that was between both of their yards. "I swear to you," she started, half leaning out the window, but not enough to actually scare Angela or herself. "One day I'm going to see if I can climb from this tree, into my bedroom window." She'd wanted to since forever, but had never actually done it.<p>

Angela smirked. "That's a load of crap," she said, looking at the tree. "The closest branch to your window is like three feet away. That's a big jump." The tree was much closer to Angela's window than it was to Pam's, which was a shame. It would've made it so much easier to sneak over to Pam's if the tree was just a bit closer. Pam could climb the tree and end up in Angela's room all she wanted but it didn't work as well the other way. Someday Angela was going to try it, even though it seemed impossible. If she could scare Pam half as much as she had scared her when she climbed in her window at 5 am last summer (when Angela was dead asleep, too) than her life would be complete.

"It's not a load of crap, are you serious? I may be clumsy on the ground but in the air or in the trees I'm an acrobat." Was that true? Well sort of. She'd climbed through Angela's window before, and she was good at the monkey bars. So that counted as in the air, in a way. "Should I go beg your mom for some snacks, or should we tell blokes that we are their snack?" Pam said with a huge smirk, kinking her eyebrows as she slowly backed towards the door. "Seems possible."

"Well if you want to be their snack that's entirely up to you," Angela said, getting off her bed and stretching. "I however am completely starved so maybe you should go get snacks." Mrs. Martin liked Pam a lot more than Angela. She was completely mystified as to why. Angela was the perfect daughter. "Oh, and maybe let her know that their coming over. Or text them and tell them to climb the tree." If Angela told her mom they had two guys coming over she was likely to lecture her on promiscuity, but if Pam told her then she would just assume they were going to play board games or something. Pam gave off an air of innocence. It was completely unfair. Angela was just as innocent as her, if a bit less virginal.

"I do want to be _Jim's_ snack. He is rather gorgeous." Pam smirked. More like extremely, model type gorgeous. "Fine. I'll go get snacks. All the yummy snacks, and I'll let your mother know that we're two people short of my Harry Potter Scene It, and so I called over two guys because they also really like Harry Potter and it's the only way we can play this game." She explained with a proud smile, knowing that she had just thought of the most brilliant plan. "If they get here while I'm fixing up snacks, I'll send them up. Don't cop feels on my guy." She said quickly before she left the room, heading down the stairs.

Angela shook her head. "Harry Potter Scene It? You're such a bloody liar. No wonder my mom likes you. If I lied to her all the time I'm sure she would like me too." Ever since Mrs. Martin had found a condom (one singular condom) in Angela's nightstand she had acted like her daughter was some sort of out of control wild child. Not that she expected to be praised for her responsibility or anything but you would think her mom found a used needle or something. Parents just overreacted. She was at university! She could legally drink. She was completely an adult. And her mom always poked around in her private business. "If they get here before you come back upstairs I might have to," she said. "You invited them over. As I am not the hostess here I can't be held responsible for my actions." That didn't even make sense but Angela was still unsure about this. Pam was too forward for her own good.

"I'm not that much of a liar. If they wanna play it, I'm down." She spoke quickly, shaking her head and ignoring the rest of the things she said as she went downstairs. She took a deep breath before skipping her way into the living room. "Hi," She started with a huge cheeky smile, glancing at both Mr. and Mrs. Martin. "I hope you don't mind, but I invited these two lovely gentlemen over because remember that Harry Potter Scene It I purchased?" she asked. "Well, it's so boring to play with two people. So it'd be much more fun with two other people, and they know all about Harry Potter so I figured it'd be alright." She knew it would work. They found her the most innocent person in the world. Which was what the opposite of her parents thought, but whatever.

Mrs. Martin smiled. "That sounds nice, love. Do you want me to get you a snack? I know you girls usually grab dinner after work but you're both so thin. I'm worried you don't eat enough." She went into the kitchen and pulled a plate out of the cupboard. "Now, I made some brownies earlier. Extra chocolate chips, just like you like. Would you like to take some upstairs? I can get you some milk, too. You girls don't get enough vitamins in your diet, eating junk food and ordering takeaway all the time." Angela was always a little annoyed by her mom fawning over her and Pam, but her mom seemed happiest when she was trying to mold her daughter into a perfect human being so Angela had no choice but to be smothered in brownies. It really wasn't so bad when she added extra chocolate.

"That actually sounds lovely, especially with the extra chocolate chips." Pam smiled excitedly, following her into the kitchen. "I know, we don't get enough vitamins at all. I wish we didn't have to work so late because I love sitting down with you and having a real dinner," she said sweetly, batting her lashes. She was so thankful Angela's mother loved her, because her own mother saw right through her. But maybe it's cause Pam was genuinely nicer to Angela's parents. Oh well. "Sure, I'll take some upstai-" She paused, hearing the door. That was quick. "Hold on, I'll get it. It's probably them. She continued her sweet act, skipping over to the door and opening it wide.

"Hey, sorry we took so long but I was trying to see if you live next to the Queen of England, holy shit." Michael spoke, pointing towards the huge castle-like house next to Angela's. "My god, they must be rich."

"Ignore him. He has no class," Jim said, wiping his feet on the mat outside the door. He never wiped his shoes off at home, but then again his family didn't have a mat outside the door. His parents pretty much just gave up when his brothers were younger. There were a couple younger kids sitting in the living room off to the right though so maybe Angela's parents just cared more than his did. He could smell something baking in the kitchen, too. Angela was one lucky girl.

Angela was planning on just waiting upstairs, but once she heard Michael's voice she ventured out of her bedroom. "You two can come upstairs," she said, waving at them from the landing. "Pam's just taking care of something in the kitchen." Mrs. Martin came out of the kitchen and gave her a stern look, prompting Angela to sigh and walk downstairs. "Mom, this is Jim and Michael. They're on a school trip from America."

"It's nice to meet you," Jim said politely, nudging Michael. Blowing it with Angela's mom right off the bat would be a bad way to start the social part of their trip. Thankfully, she just smiled and shook their hands.

"Uh yeah, what he said, nice to meet you." Michael said quickly, shaking her hand lightly.

"It's nice to meet you too," she said with a smile. "Now, I was just getting some brownies together for you kids. Go on upstairs and start your game. I'll bring them up in a few minutes." Angela took that as an invitation to grab Pam's arm and drag her toward the stairs, followed closely by the boys.

"Sounds great, Mom," she said, taking the stairs two at a time. Even though her mom told them to go upstairs she wanted to avoid any nosy questions or annoying staring from her siblings.

"Ow, ow, ow." Pam winced as Angela dragged her away. She was small but she packed power in those tiny annoying fingers. "Let me go." She pried her hand out of Angela's grip. "We were just having a good conversation," she muttered, before looking at the guys and smiling politely since they were still in the sight of Angela's parents. "You two found this place pretty easily."

"Well it was right near the cafe, which is near the hotel. Really it was easy," Michael explained, before turning to Jim. "By the way, I do too have class. Don't act like you weren't looking with me." The house next door was like some place that Gwen Stefani would live in or something. It looked like it'd have a dungeon.

Angela glanced over at Pam. Clearly they didn't know it was her house. Pam was always uncomfortable with her wealth (aka, her parent's bloody fortune) and never talked about it. Her parents still made her have a job and pay for her own things, which Angela thought was completely unfair. Of course, she wasn't Pam's parents. "Just a house, guys," Angela said lightly, leading the way to her bedroom. "It's not really that interesting."

"Michael's not use to being around people," Jim said apologetically. "He doesn't get out of the dorm much. Everyone on our floor is completely afraid of him." That wasn't true at all and Michael was definitely one of the more social guys on the floor but Jim was always apologizing for Michael in jest.

Pam chose to stay quiet, but let out a soft laugh. "Gwen Stefani? She does not live there. At least I don't think so..." She glanced towards Angela, catching her look and just smirking instead of saying anything.

"I am too used to being around people; I'm not caged in some sort of cage." Well, that didn't work out how Michael wanted it to, but whatever. "I didn't know it was bad to talk about houses being huge here. In America it's fine," he defended himself, walking into Angela's room.

"Yeah, it's really offensive here. You can get shot for it." Pam spoke in a serious voice, a small smirk on her face as she squeezed past Angela and into the room, immediately heading back over to the bed and kneeling down to look underneath it. "I put the game in here, right? I figure I should take it out so your mom believes me," she explained, pulling random things out underneath it.

"Somewhere under there, yeah," Angela said, sitting back down at her computer. She had gotten really addicted to Tumblr lately. There were some cool people on there. "Jules said "way to go"." She shot Pam a thumbs up. They had both started following a girl named Jules a few months back and she was incredibly cool. The only problem was she lived in America. Oddly enough, not that far from where Jim and Michael lived, though New York was an entirely different state. She'd been very impressed when Angela said she and Pam were hanging out with two hot Americans.

So they were on Tumblr. At least, Angela was. Pam probably was too, since they both seemed to know whoever Angela was talking about. Of course, that could be someone they actually knew and hung out with. Jim had a Tumblr, but he never went on much. Maybe he had just found a reason to go on more. "So we're playing a game?" he asked, turning his attention back to Pam. "It better be a good game."

Michael glanced around the room; it was a lot bigger than his. Counting both the dorm and the one he had at home. A little too girly for his actual liking but it was nice. "You have a Tumblr?" Michael asked as she spoke, coming up behind her. "Weird, so do we. Except Jim has like no followers cause he's never on." And because Michael was hilarious and everyone loved him and Jim wanted to be as funny as Michael but knew he wasn't, so he gave up. Something like that.

"Would I want to play a game that wasn't good? No," Pam replied with a smirk, finally pulling out the box of Harry Potter Scene It. "We're actually not playing it; it's just a decoy, if you will." She opened the box, balancing the board in front of her on the floor, and scattering a few cards and game pieces. "I mean, bloody hell, haven't even got to play this yet. At least I can pretend I get to play it." She really did need new friends. Or friends in general, because people who didn't like Harry Potter were people she didn't wanna associate herself with. She looked over at Micheal and nodded, "Yeah we each have had one for a while now. Pretty cool. Pretty shitty when you need to study, but kills time either way."

"Every time Michael's trying to study he's always telling me to look at what he just reblogged or what this other person posted," Jim said, nodding. He definitely got that. Somehow going on Tumblr was a lot more tempting when he had actual things to be doing. "I never really got the point of it, to be honest." Jim looked at the game pieces scattered on the floor. He wasn't going to go so far as to say it looked fun but… he did love Harry Potter. In moderation. "We could actually play that, you know," he said. "I would probably beat all of you. Definitely Michael, anyway."

Angela snorted. "Would not," she said, reblogging a photoset of an adorable kitten playing around in a shoe. Like 50% of her blog was pictures of adorable animals. Mostly kittens. She preferred dogs to cats any day, but there was just something about kittens that was really irresistible. They made her hit reblog. "Pam knows more about Harry Potter than anyone, trust me. She always quizzes me about it and threatens to find a new best friend whenever I don't get one of her ridiculous questions right. Who even cares what R.A.B. stands for?" She never could remember, despite Pam telling her all the time. She liked Harry Potter, but she wasn't a rabid fan like Pam.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," Jim said, more or less automatically. He was pretty good with Harry Potter trivia.

"Whatever," Angela said, rolling her eyes. "Everyone knows more than me. That's nice. I'll just lose if we play, so let's not."

Pam's head immediately snapped up, looking at Jim with wide eyes, a small smile spreading across her face. "I fancy you." She spoke, her smile turning into a grin before she looked back down at the game. No one ever knew Harry Potter as much as her, and that was just wicked.

"Wow. Geeks." Michael snorted, rolling his eyes. He knew Harry Potter, but he didn't love it like Jim did. Or Pam, clearly.

"Angela does the same thing. I mean I like Tumblr but... sometimes it can be overbearing. Especially those creeps that reblog your personal pictures." Pam added, looking up with a slightly disgusted face. "Every time someone does that, I feel so awkward. Like, why are they doing that?" Maybe so they could jack it later? She didn't know, but she didn't like it either.

"You don't take it as a compliment? It just means people think you're hot," Michael said quickly, looking at both Pam and Angela. They were definitely a type of girl he'd reblog, especially if they were standing in their underwear.

"No. It's weird if I don't know them and I feel invaded," Pam muttered, spreading out the cards evenly. She spread her legs out in front of her before sitting criss-cross, patting the space next to her. "Angela will be too crabby if we do play it, but we can at least quiz each other. Because I'm pretty sure you're going to lose, _James_."

"Who said my name was James?" It was, of course, but Pam didn't know that. "Sometimes Jim isn't short for anything." Or, like Michael used to think, it was short for Jimothy. That definitely wasn't the case, though Jim had let Michael think that for a few years before telling him the truth. "I'm not going to lose, trust me. Hit me. Any question in the deck or any question you can think of on your own."

"Michael and I are going to find our own game," Angela announced, standing up from the computer and stretching. "You two nerds can fight to the nerdy death but we're going to do something fun." She pointed to the tree out the window. "See that?" she asked Michael. "It's really easy to climb down if we need to get away from these two."

"It's James," she said simply, not knowing whether she was wrong or not. But she probably wasn't. He was probably giving her a hard time. "Even if it's _not_ James - I'm gonna call you it anyway." She smirked, picking up a few cards and resting her back against the bed, looking at him evily over the top of the cards.

"That tree?" Michael asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked out the window. What a huge tree. It was right in the middle of Angela's house and the other huge house. Maybe he could climb through to the other side.

"Oh, NOW it's easy to climb down, but when I say I'm gonna climb over here from my bedroom window, you say it's impossible?" Pam asked, rolling her eyes. "Typical. You can do everything." She switched a few of her cards behind the other ones before settling on a question. "Okay Mr. Know-It-All. In Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, what were the two initials on Professor Lupin's briefcase?" She asked, a sly smirk as she held the card closer to her.

"It's always been easy to climb down. I just said you couldn't get in your bedroom window from the tree because the tree's too far from your house," Angela corrected, leaning out the bedroom window. It was really cold out but the tree didn't look icy. Neither did the windowsill. She sat on the sill and leaned out, grabbing a branch above her head. There was a branch that came nearly level with the windowsill which was perfect for her feet. "See?" she said, sitting on the branch. "It's easy!" It was also freezing, so she climbed back inside and shut the window. "Easy escape route."

"Very nice," Jim said, clapping. It was a great distraction because he didn't exactly know the answer to Pam's question. She obviously went for the hardest one right away. Who remembered tiny details like that? "R.L.?" Those were his initials, so it made sense. He couldn't remember if the book even specified so it seemed like a safe enough guess. Of course, if he was wrong Pam was probably going to laugh her ass off. And so would Michael, even though he definitely didn't know the answer.

"I could get in my bedroom window, it's not that far. If I had Andy open the window, I could just swing in it." She told her simply, a slight laugh.

"Wait, wait, wait." Michael stared at the tree, looking at both sides, and then at the house across once again - all while making sure Angela wasn't going to slip and die. He shivered before she closed the window, turning to look at Pam and Jim. "That's your house?"

"I don't know, didn't you say Gwen Stefani lives there?" Pam answered smoothly, then immediately laughing. "Nope, you're wrong. It's J! R.J Lupin." She rose her eyebrows, smirking as she swayed back and forth in a bit of a happy celebration kind of dance. "Loser. Pathetic... pathetic."

Angela shook her head. "It's definitely Pam's house," she confirmed, looking over at it. "Has been forever. Like literally forever. It's been in her family for decades." When they were little kids it was kind of cool because they could play hide and seek all over the place but she was beyond used to it now. Michael's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head though.

"Damn," Jim said, realizing Pam was right. He could hear Hermione saying it now. Professor RJ Lupin. "That's misleading though!" It wasn't especially, because she had asked for the two initials and he gave her two initials but he felt kind of dumb for getting it wrong. "Okay," he said, picking up a card at random. "Oh, this one is ridiculously hard so you'll probably get it wrong. The actor who plays Mad-Eye Moody has a son who is also in the movie. Which character did he play?" That was complete news to Jim, so he doubted she would know. This was her game, though. Maybe she had played before.

"Holy shit, why didn't you say anything about owning that house? I could have went in it, since I know you, right? I mean, jesus..." Michael's house was a good size, Jim's was bigger due to the fact he had two brothers and a sister - so it was understandable. Michael just had one sister.

"I don't own it, my parents own it. And I don't know, wasn't important?" Michael was sure loving that house. Pam just never liked to speak about her wealth, because really, it wasn't hers to talk about. It was her parents'. It ran through her father's family, the son would take over the Beesly business when the father got too old - and then all the money was inherited. But Pam wasn't looking to take over that business, so she had no idea what was going to happen later. She narrowed her eyes at Jim, shaking her head. "Really? That's hardly Harry Potter... that's cast based." She sighed, drumming her hands on her knees as she tried to figure it out. "I'm gonna make a guess. Is it... Seamus Finnigan? No it's not. I'm going with it though."

"You were right," Jim said, handing her the card. "It's not. Bill Weasley." The questions about the plot and characters were so much easier than the dumb cast questions. Now Pam was probably going to hunt around for a really hard question for him to answer. "You know, I don't see the resemblance at all." Probably because in the movies Moody was all scarred and had a fake eye. But then in the end Bill had been all scarred too, from the werewolf. So there was that family resemblance.

Angela groaned. "Oh my god, who even cares? Can we please find something interesting to do?" Knowing Pam she wasn't going to let this Harry Potter game go until she was thoroughly kicking Jim's ass. She hated being wrong, especially when it came to Harry Potter.

"I was?" But then her smile immediately fell. "Hey, wanker. Not funny." She narrowed her eyes, taking the card that was in Jim's hands and throwing it onto the ground. "Cheap shot."

"I agree, let's do something that doesn't deal with me and Angela watching nerds play some boring ass game." Michael stated, taking a seat on the bed and looking down at the board game that he'd never get to win.

"Not yet." She reached down and ripped a few more cards out of the stack. "The age line surrounds the goblet of fire by how many feet?" She asked with a smug smile, holding the card close again as if someone would take it.

Damn it, he didn't know that one either! "Twelve," he said, picking a completely arbitrary number. He could actually think about it but then he would just assume he was wrong and pick another number and go through it all over again. "This game is rigged."

"Yes, it's terrible," Angela said, spinning around in her desk chair. "Can we please do something fun now? Michael and I both want to do something different and that's two out of four and with an even number of people that's the majority." That probably wasn't true at all and she didn't even know, but she was too bored to even care. This was supposed to be fun! Two hot guys were in her bedroom and one of them was involved in a fight to death trivia battle with her best friend.

"Ten! Failure. Off by two." Pam grinned, snickering to herself as she stuck a card into the rest of the pack. She glanced over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at both Angela and Michael. Damn. They would be a good match. They were both not letting her play this game. She never got to and she finally found a guy that wanted to play it with her. How obnoxious.

"Two more minutes and I'm offing both of you. Let's please find something else to do." Michael muttered, leaning down and starting to throw the pieces in the box.

"Not the cards," Jim argued, picking another one out of the pile. "What dangerous creature does Professor Lockhart let free in the classroom in Chamber of Secrets?" That wasn't a very hard one. Some people might think so, but if Jim knew it then Pam should know it, since she was supposed to be a Harry Potter expert and everything. Too bad the card hadn't had a harder question. She had gotten one wrong, but he was losing. "And you should probably get this one wrong so I can win."

"Trust me," Angela said with a snort. "Neither of you are going to win. You're certainly not winners right now." Sometimes it was a curse, being best friends with Pam. But as kids if the next-door neighbor is your age and not an icky boy then it's best friends for life. So far that had been very literal.

Pam couldn't help but laugh as Jim reached for another card as Michael was throwing the things in a box. "Hey, hey hey hey. Stop it, prat, listen to me, you stop. I'll put it in. It has to go in a certain way." She then slapped Michael's hand away, glaring at him until he backed up.

"Yikes, feisty perfectionist. Don't wanna mess with you." Michael spoke quickly before looking over at Jim with wide eyes, and then Angela. "Definitely not winners."

Pam slowly starting putting things in, looking up at Jim with a 'duh' sort of look. "Did you really just ask me that? Pixies. That's the easiest question ever. And now," She reached over, patting him on the shoulder. "You are a sorry bloke, because you have just lost." She then snipped the card out of his hand and added it into the stack that she was organizing.

"_Cornish_pixies," Jim corrected. "You were only partially right, so you lost too." Technically she was about half a point ahead of him, but only if they were keeping score. He totally wasn't. It didn't even matter. Of course, it was really hard not to keep track of who was doing better. It was just something he did automatically.

"You both lose," Angela said, flopping back onto her bed. "Can we _please _go do something fun?" She knew she was whining but they weren't seriously going to sit around and play board games when they were with two hot Americans. That definitely did not make a good what-I-did-over-the-holidays story. "Put the cards away faster!"

"Oh, god forbid. I would have given you that full point, I'll have you know. And I'm still winning, so it doesn't matter." She smirked, adding the card to the stack she was currently putting back inside the box - carefully.

"Pam, if you don't go faster I'm gonna throw them all in." Michael commented, going to make a move towards the box.

"Piss off; I bite." She spoke through gritted teeth, finishing the last of the cards and shoving in the game board. It was true, she was a biter. Whenever she and Angela got into it, she'd bite. Or sometimes she'd fight with Angela's brother, Alex, and the only way she could get out of it was biting him. It was just a natural reaction. Probably because she was part cat. "Great, now your mom's gonna think we didn't invite them over for a board game..."

Angela opened the window again, searching the tree for ice. "She really does," she said, holding out her arm as if showing off bite marks, though there weren't any. "It doesn't feel great. Her teeth are very sharp." The tree didn't look too icy. They could always just sneak out and her parents would never know they were gone. Of course, her mom had mentioned bringing up brownies. She would definitely notice if no one was there when she walked in. "Oh, we'll just tell her that we're going to show them around. They're tourists, remember?"

"We're not really tourists," Jim said. "We're just here on a trip." That probably technically make them tourists but Jim hated that term. It made him think of dorks taking pictures of street signs and old buildings that had no significance just to prove they went somewhere. It was cool to be in London and everything but he didn't need photographic evidence of every part of his trip.

Angela waved away his comment. "Whatever. Pretend you care for like thirty seconds so we can go out and have some fun. There's a club not far from here that's usually ridiculously busy over the holidays. It's fantastic."

"Fantastic, or lame," Pam muttered, shoving the game back underneath Angela's bed. Pam did like to dance, when she was playing the 'Just Dance' video game, but otherwise she felt awkward in clubs, because she wasn't the type of girl to go up to guys and grind on them, not that she ever wanted to be. Except, looking at Jim she honestly wouldn't mind pretending to be that kind of girl.

"A club? Is a club the same thing here as it is in America?" Michael asked, slightly confused but all for it either way.

"Depends, what's it mean in America?" Pam asked before pushing herself off the floor and heading towards Angela's closet. It was freezing outside and she wasn't gonna deal with another walk in the cold with just the sweater she was wearing. "Your mom probably won't mind, but I am taking brownies for the walk."

"Like a dance club?" Were they positively dumb in America or something? "You know, music, dancing, drinks?"

"That's what it means in America," Jim confirmed. Not that he ever went to them. He wasn't old enough to drink and he wasn't really into dancing, especially not sober. Plus the music always sucked.

Angela smiled. "Good, you know what it's all about then," she said, digging around in her closet for a cuter shirt. "But here of course you can drink. Isn't the drinking age really high in America? You can do whatever you want here." Angela pulled her zebra top out of her closet and practically danced out the door to the bathroom down the hall. "It's going to be fun!"

Pam watched Angela dance out of the room with a straight face, completely unamused. She pulled out Angela's blue hoodie that read '_Martin_' on the back. Hers was all the way in her closet next door. Too far. So this would work. "I'm going to apologize ahead of time," she told them, turning around as she unzipped the hoodie. "I'm not a fan of clubs at all, but she pretty much forces me to go. I'd rather play Harry Potter Scene It."

"I'd definitely rather go to the club than that." Michael stated quick, rolling his eyes. "Plus, I forgot we could drink... now I'm really up for this."

Truth be told, Harry Potter Scene It sounded a lot better to Jim, too. Technically there were no rules against getting drunk while on the trip since they were all able to drink here but they were going to some theater in the morning and he didn't want to be all hungover. Nor did he want to blow all his money on beer. "I'm with Pam on this one, but whatever," he said, stretching. This whole time change thing was really working against him. It was like eight at night but it felt like three in the afternoon. Or something. He couldn't even tell anymore. He was just exhausted.

"Boring!" Angela said, walking back in the room, adjusting her strapless top. It was only four pounds at a little boutique down the street from the café. A steal. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go."

Pam glanced over at Jim with a slight smirk on her face before looking down as she zipped up the hoodie. It was weird how much they had agreed on things, just by meeting today. She looked up as Angela came in and an idea suddenly came to her. "Actually, um, I'm going to stay here. I'm not feeling very..." She moved her head slightly from side to side, waving her hands as she tried to find the words she was looking for. "Clubbish." In lack of a lot better words. "And Jim here isn't feeling it either. So we're gonna just go over to my place with the game." She figured it'd be too weird for Angela when her mom wondered why Pam was staying while her daughter went out with one of the 'tourists'.

"Wait, what? Jim totally wants to go!" Michael said, pointing his finger at him. "We can drink!" Sure, Jim never said that he wanted to go, but why wouldn't he? Not that Michael cared either way, really.

"I didn't exactly bring drinking money," Jim pointed out. He had brought money for Christmas presents for his family, which was basically going to wipe him out since he had three younger siblings and couldn't exactly leave any of them out of the present buying. "You go, though. Have fun." He was going to be out with Angela. He would definitely have some fun.

Angela shrugged while she put on a coat of lip gloss. "Doesn't matter to me," she said. "If you guys want to be boring and play your silly game while we go out and have fun then have a good time. You don't get the brownies, though." Her mom made excellent brownies and she would definitely give them to Pam over her own daughter, but that was unacceptable.

"I will get brownies. Your mom will give the whole batch to me, if I asked for it." She explained with a smug grin. She reached under the bed and grabbed the game, then handed it to Jim. "You hold it. Don't let anyone take it. Between the thirty steps towards my house, you never know who could snipe it." She told him seriously before turning around and heading towards the door. "Come on, Jim. Let's leave before we both look like that." She pointed towards Angela with a smirk.

"It wouldn't be bad if you two looked like that," Michael thought out loud, before grimacing and looking back at them. "Well, Pam. Jim, you'd look ridiculous in that shirt." He hoped that Angela wouldn't leave him at the club for some other guys and make his whole entire night extremely awkward. Because he wasn't up for that at all.

"Yeah, I'm more of a leopard print kind of guy," he said, shrugging. He was going to add something about horizontal stripes making him look wide but Michael definitely would call him gay and it probably wasn't tactful even as a joke given Angela's stripy shirt. "Have fun, you two. Also, try not to get too completely wasted," he added to Michael. It was going to be hell trying to sleep later if Michael was being loud and obnoxious and insisting they go find something to do or, on the other hand, puking all night.

Angela gave Jim a weird look. "I'm not too sure about you," she said, grabbing her purse. "Don't do anything creepy with Pam while we're gone. I can kick your ass. I learned my fighting skills from Pam." Namely, just bite the victim a la Edward Cullen until they beg for mercy. It was a hard one to use against Pam, though. Angela used it as a last resort kind of thing where Pam just jumped straight on the biting. Vampire.

"Leopard print is rather nice." Pam agreed, grabbing a pair of boots out of Angela's closet and slipping them on.

"Leopard print? Man,... That's just weird." Michael didn't think guys should wear animal prints. It had to be one of the most flamboyant things a guy could do. It made sense why Jim would like it...

"We will not do anything creepy. Though, you should be scared of her," she stated, looking towards Jim. "My fighting skills are top of the art." She stated simply, walking out of her bedroom and heading down the stairs with the rest of them.

Mrs. Martin was still in the kitchen, doing the dishes. "Oh, I completely forgot about your brownies! I started the dishes and they just slipped my mind. They're not warm, but they're on the counter if you want them. If you put them in the microwave for a few seconds they'll be just as good as out of the oven."

Angela waved her off, though politely. "It's okay, Mom. The boys wanted to explore the area a little bit more and we thought since we live here and know the area we would go will them. Show them the sights. They're tourists, you know?"

"That sounds nice," Mrs. Martin said. "You kids go out and have fun. Don't be out too late though, okay?" Even though her daughter was eighteen and at university and didn't technically have a curfew, Mrs. Martin always warned her to not be out too late. "It was nice meeting you boys."


End file.
